Think of England
by a nyr byrjun
Summary: REPOSTED: At only the young age of nine, Bella is kidnapped but as she grows older she does not know how to feel about her captor, Edward. Warning: This story does include very explicit and graphic scenes that are not meant for those who are underage. If you are uncomfortable with that, I suggest you do not read.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This a repost of Think of England. Before I decided to delete this story, it was not officially taken off by FF, so I suppose I can put it back up. I know some readers were deeply disappointed and so was I, to have to story no longer on this website. For those who were against this story before, get over it. K?**

**I'll be posting each chapter a couple days apart or one each week.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.**

**Warning: This and many other chapters of this story include very explicit and graphic scenes that are not meant for those who are underage. If you are uncomfortable with that, I suggest you do not read.**

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_"By plucking her petals, you do not gather the beauty of the flower." - Rabindrath Tagore_

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_I was once a little girl._

Once still innocent and naive. Happy. But that was before him. Before he took me away, before everything I knew suddenly changed. If only I had knew then what I know now. _Maybe if things would have happened differently_, maybe if I would have just listened to my parents before I had acted so irrationally, _I wouldn't be this way._

But I didn't, how stupid I had been._ How irresponsible._ But then it didn't seem so much a bad thing, kids never listened to what their parents had said. I surely didn't, it was my fault. I wandered away from the small open space of the park, only to get lost and then my mind blurs. I couldn't remember anything after that.

I had no one to blame but myself for the life I live now. The only other person I could possibly hate was him, my demon.

He was in every way evil, even if it didn't seem like it, he was. His sweet gestures, comforting touches and soothing whispers were all a facade. He treated me like I was his child, but truly he had taken me from the only family I had known. The only thing that would ever save me, but it was too late to dream or hope. _They weren't going to come get me, they didn't know where I was._

I hadn't even known we weren't in Forks, Washington anymore when I had woken up. The front seat wasn't any comfortable and my small limbs ached to stretch. The car was limiting and not what I remembered it to be. I was still half asleep when I struggled to open my eyes. I peeked a glance at who was behind the wheel and I only saw hands.

They were pale, and bony. Nothing like my father's whose were wrinkled from years of age and hard work. And certainly nothing like my mother's, pink and soft. My eyes trailed up from the man's forearm to his shoulder and I finally saw his face. Well, the side of it.

His jaw was angular and firm looking. His nose perfectly straight, and his lips were pouty. He looked to be chiseled out of stone, not because he was so still, but even by only seeing half of his face, I had known he was more than a teenager, but still less than a man. And through his awkwardness, there was beauty. But that didn't stop me from quickly panicking. My young mind couldn't understand what was happening or why I was in a car with a stranger. I knew not to talk to strangers but that didn't stop me from questioning him.

_"Who are you?" _I had asked, trying to make myself as small as possible, while huddling into the corner of the car door. My voice was quiet, nothing more than a frightened whisper, but it was loud enough to catch his attention and pull his eyes away from the road.

When he looked at me, all I saw was green, vibrant green. The color of new leaves in the spring, it made me think of a forest. His hair was a disheveled mess of bronze, the color striking against his pale skin. But what disturbed me further than the sharp contrast of the color of his hair to the color of his skin, was the way his lips curled up at the side of his mouth to make a grin.

A lopsided grin, it made my stomach do somersaults. In a good way and in a bad way. I couldn't describe what I was feeling, trapped in a car with a strange man. I couldn't think locked in the eyes of a snake. I knew the situation was wrong, dangerous even, but he hypnotized me. I didn't dare look away.

"I thought you would never wake." He uttered softly, his voice a velvet breath. He hadn't answered my question, but that wasn't what had scared me. The thing that scared me was the way he spoke to me, there was some underlying importance to what he had said. I should have known there was a reason he was saying such things to me, but I didn't need to know that to suspect this wasn't right.

He had taken me away from the only world I had known, the normal world. The world where children are safe and cherished. They are loved the proper way, never to be taken advantage of or mistreated. But that world didn't exist, things happened to them everyday. Bad things, only we weren't strong enough to fight them. I wasn't strong enough to fight them. Nor would I ever be, I would be his forever.

He had reached over and brushed the back of his hand against my round cheek, the feeling that I had felt then, I still shiver from remembering how cold his hand felt upon my face in that still of a moment before everything changed.

"What has you thinking so hard, love?" I almost jumped out of my skin as I heard his murmur. I looked up to find him coming through the doorway, his face in curious wonder. The corners of his mouth twitched and I knew he was fighting a smile.

"Nothing," I told him quietly, looking down at book I held in my hands. It was sprawled across my lap lazily, the corners of the pages crisp against my legs. I tried to read the words but I could only stare at the ink of text without really seeing it.

I felt him come closer and forced myself to relax instead of freeze. It would only make things harder than they had to be, you would think I was used to this by now. Used to the feeling of cold hands on my shoulders, slowing rubbing circles into the back of my neck with his thumbs, but I wasn't. Each time he touched me it felt like the first time he had touched me.

_His cool hand had crept lower, the small rush of his fingertips were soft. They slowly glided over the bare skin of my arm, down to the end of my small wrist. His hand closed over it, the length of his fingers overlapping in a bracelet. I had been looking down, my eyes too frightened to glance at his face. But I could feel him, next to me, his chest pressing against my side._

_It seemed he was caging me, his broad shoulders towering over me, his arms reaching to hold me. I wouldn't let him, I didn't want him to. But I didn't have a say, it seemed like he was everywhere. I couldn't escape. He wouldn't let me._

_I shivered slightly as I felt his breath on the skin of my neck, he brushed back my hair, reaching to kiss the spot where the end of my jaw contoured. His lips were foreign to me, I had never felt them before now. Never had been touched so intimately with such care, like a precious piece of glass. That only he could break, that he would only break._

_The way they slid over my skin, his lips. The smooth pressure, I felt like I was about to burst. I wanted to move away from his grasp, but I was too scared to do anything. I tried to pull away slightly, when his large hand closed over the side of my neck, his fingers resting on the nape lovingly. He guided my head closer, his cheek pressing against mine. I squirmed feeling my eyes water, I started to whimper pulling at my arms._

_"Stop," he whispered, his breathing almost ragged. "Stop moving." The pit of my stomach hurt, I couldn't understand why this was happening. I was lost in his unwanted embrace, being smothered by his mouth. His face was too close to mine, I felt like I couldn't breathe. I wanted to close my eyes and never open them. I never wanted to see his face, but I didn't have that choice._

_I focused on the detailed curtains that hung over the windowsill. The delicate white lace, the way it ruffled to close. It seemed wrong in the moment, but I wanted to be that curtain. Untouched and pure. It seemed like a mockery to me, I would never be like that curtain. Never hang so gracefully, left to be alone._

_One moment his left hand was lain on my lower back, then it sneaked up under the hem quietly. He didn't travel much further up, but kept his hand closed around the side of my mid-section. His hand was cold, making my pink skin curdle with goosebumps. It seemed like his whole hand was bigger than me, I had only been a child, nine years of age._

_But I had enough sense to know this wasn't suppose to be happening, that men shouldn't touch little girls. That strangers weren't to be trusted. I had only known him for a week then, which before then I had fought, I cried, I bleed from hitting myself against the walls so hard. He was furious to say the least, but hadn't taken his frustrations out on me. He said I would learn, learn to accept this life. Learn to trust him, care for him. Love him._

_I didn't want to listen, believe him. I couldn't, I didn't want to. But he made it very clear that I would respect him, be his little girl. His daughter, his companion, his lover in one point or another. He didn't explain this all at one time, as he had held my tear stained face in his hands. His thumbs stroking the water from my cheeks. He said I was too young to know of any of those things. But still he touched me._

_He said to relax, enjoy, make him happy. Make daddy happy, but he wasn't my father. My father wouldn't do this. His arms had tightened when I told him this and he had stared at me, his eyes almost piercing. I was more than afraid, scared. I didn't know what to expect from this creature, who would make such a monster? Why did he have to take me?_

_But all he did was bring his face closer to mine, our noses almost touching, his eyes had seemed to be more fierce than before if that was possible. I was shaking slightly, my small bottom lip trembled. "I am the only person in your life now, you have no one else. I'm the only one you have and you are the only one I have. Bella, I'm trying to make this work. I need you to let me make this work. You wouldn't want to hurt me, would you?"_

_I shook my head, having nothing else to say. I didn't know what to say, or what to do. I let him tell me whatever he wanted, he was in charge. I let him coax me with his soft voice, the small comfort of words. I was safer that way, safe in his arms that being battered by them. His anger frightened me but when he was like this, gentle, it made me feel there was hope. Hope for something better, I would find a way to get back to the way I used to be._

It frightened me to know I was under his complete control, that he had power of me. I was nothing more than a doll to be played with, but he claimed I was more than just porcelain. I was his. But it was the same to me, only I could talk. Not that I was ever heard, I was just something pretty to look at. Something that caught an eye and intrigued.

I could move but that unfortunately didn't go unnoticed. I felt his eyes on my every movement. I was never to be out of his sight unless it was to have a human moment or when he did. Not that I considered him to be human. He was inhuman, a monster but not in the literal sense. He didn't have any humanity to be considered a human. Everything he touched crumbled to dust, he could only destroy.

"You are tense, Isabella. Why, must I ask?" He now sat behind me on the bed we would both lay in at night. His breath was so close to my ear and his hush words echoed in my head, replaying over and over. I didn't speak, instead closed the book slowly. It would have to wait, I wouldn't be able to read it with him in the same room. It was too much of a challenge, I could only sit to cower at his hands.

His long fingers dug into my shoulder blades, kneading the brawn of my muscles. "Isabella?" My eyes had closed and they fluttered open slightly as the pressure in his movements lessoned. I wished for a second they wouldn't, this was the only way he could touch me without harming me. When he was in this kind of mood to give instead of take, I more than appreciated it.

"Yes?" I asked dazedly, turning my head swiftly to meet his eyes. His hands started to move again as he saw the look on my face, serene. I was slowly feeling more and more peaceful as his hands continued. Even his lips coming up on my neck, continuing to my jaw and to my cheek didn't frazzle me. They only added on to what I was feeling, calm. They were as soft as feathers, his kisses.

I hummed in the back of my throat, angling my head so it could rest on his cheek. I didn't care to be modest at this point, I would try to enjoy this side of Edward while I had the chance. Who only knew how long this would last? His air-brushed kisses became open mouth, his hands squeezed and pulled apart my back. Nothing could describe this feeling, the best amount of pleasure and pain.

But as suddenly as I was pulled into euphoria, I was taken out. I didn't mean to freeze up, or even open my eyes, but it happened. And he sensed it. He knew me so well that he didn't have to think. I could never hide anything from, he was my maker. He knew what made me tick and what could break me. He was so much apart of me, it was almost as if we were the same person, only in different bodies.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his arms moving away from my shoulders instead to wrap tightly around my stomach. His forearms were right beneath my bust, my breasts slightly resting on top of them. I felt heated, I wanted to inhale a deep breath, but I couldn't. I couldn't breathe, my lungs felt like they couldn't function. In this moment, I couldn't believe what I was feeling, I could do nothing but want him. I wanted to be comforted by him, hear his voice.

I hated myself for having to stoop so low, to feel ambivalent with my feelings. I had been with him for so long having no one else, it had driven me to the point of insanity.

_I was allowed no human interaction. I couldn't talk to anybody, look at anybody without it having set him off. He was always angry when we were around people. He tried to take me places, but we always ended up coming home early. With me, up in his arms, hiding my teary eyed face in his shoulder. I could play with no one but him at the playground._

_I'd rather have not played at all, it felt wrong to try to be normal once more. After you changed, you couldn't change back. I wasn't apart of that world, why try to camouflage to fit in? But he had to have his way, he wanted to see me smile. He hadn't since he had stolen me, being at the playground brought back too many memories. Of my parents, of Forks and of the day he had taken me._

_The outing had been bittersweet, I was torn between familiarity and unknown territory. What would happen if I tried to run away? Would he chase me? If he did, would he catch me? I was too much of a coward to try and see. I couldn't afford looking at his eyes, and knowing he couldn't trust me. If he didn't trust me, I didn't have a chance._

_But the thing I remember most about how we went out was the first day. It had been snowing, not too heavily, but the concrete had been sprinkled with flakes. All I could see was white, a winter wonderland. I hadn't known how much time had passed since I had been with Edward, but it seemed to have gone fast if it was near December._

_I didn't remember what the month was that I had woken in the car, in fact I still didn't know where we were. He hadn't told me yet, and I hadn't asked. It seemed pointless, but when I had seen a big tree decorated with various ornaments, I knew Christmas was coming. I had gotten excited, but then sad. What would my parents being doing without me this year? Did they miss me?_

_I had taken it to stare at my shoes the majority of the time through the outing, feeling lonesome. But I wasn't alone, he was holding my gloved hand. His grip was tight, but firm. I was too tired to care, I let him known I wasn't going to run. I squeezed his hand for a fraction of a minute and he got the point. He tried to get me to look around, and when I did I saw other children._

_They were all dressed for the weather. Some laughing, others throwing snow balls. Others with their parents, some even so small they were being held. I felt worse, I wanted to cry. I hung my head and stopped walking. He stopped with me and I could feel him stroking my soft chestnut curls with his fingers, running his hands through my hair._

_I suddenly started sobbing into his stomach, pressing my wet face against his coat. "Shh, Bella." The next thing that happened was that he scoped me up into his arms. He coddled me, right then and there. He nuzzled my small neck and started to hum, rocking back and forth. He had sat on a bench, trying to get me to hush. But I couldn't. I let him hold me, let him try to make me feel better._

_But nothing was working, I would never be the same. Not even as much as I tried. I would be this way for the rest of my life. "Daddy's here, baby." His kissed my head gently, reaching with one of his hands to cradle the back of it. He wasn't mad at me. I wasn't mad at him. I was just lost, I felt as if I would never be found. I would forever remain in my rabbit hole. Only this wasn't a dream. I wouldn't wake up._

"Bella, tell me what's wrong. You've been like this all afternoon." He tongue was like a lash of a whip, his words stung. The way he said them made me regret being so silent, being so fragile. I was no match to him, never be as strong as he was. I was nothing in comparison of what he could do to me, what he could make me feel. The worst of pains, I was a mere burden to take care of.

I didn't answer him, I didn't even notice him as I tried to keep my head up. Steady, I tried to stay strong inside. I was about to explode from such emotion, I couldn't possibly contain myself. But it didn't matter of what I could and could not do, all that mattered was him. What he thought, what he said, what he did. I was automatically trained, a machine. I wasn't anything to be called a person, I wasn't significant.

I was nothing, he had made me a nothing. I was invisible in the words I spoke, the things I thought. I didn't see a girl in the mirror, I saw an image of one. I wasn't real, you couldn't touch me. Feel me. I simply am not there, I didn't exist. There wasn't a me.

"I'm not feeling well," I barely managed to tell him, my voice was hoarse. It had broken in mid-sentence and I started to sob. My epiphany didn't do nothing to help, it was what had caused this sudden outburst. I was so stricken with my realization, my hands had flew to my face to stop my sobs. I couldn't silence myself, my own cries echoed in my ears. I felt like crawling up in ball, only to swivel up and die.

Was there a point to why I existed? I didn't know who I was or what I liked. What made me cry and what made me laugh. Had I ever smiled? Had I ever lived life? No.

I was him.

_I didn't go to school the way children normally did. I was home schooled, he was my teacher. He was quite intelligent, trying to make me absorb energy like a sponge. I soaked up what I could, but normally I studied the mystery of him. I hadn't know much of him for a long time, but he would bombard me with questions all the time. Not about my past life, they all revolved around him._

_How I felt about him, what did I see when I looked at him. Did I like him, was he a good daddy? Did I love him? I couldn't answer that question at first, I had frozen when I had heard the word love. Before him, I had only heard that word from my parents. They were the only ones I had ever, and would ever love. I knew nothing else of love, but I knew what it was. I felt it when I saw my mother's ageless face behind my eyelids. But I didn't see him._

_He had waited patiently for an answer, my hands in his. He had just told me he loved me, expressing it with a chaste kiss on the cheek, I was afraid to even open my mouth. I didn't want to lie, especially to him, he could see through every one of them. I couldn't lie about something like that, a big fat lie. It was small and it wasn't white. If I had told him I loved him, it would be ugly and black. A blasphemously violation of soul._

_I didn't say anything back to him for a very long time. I only looked at him, my eyes never once leaving his. It was more than hard to look away from him, when I finally looked down at my hands. The only thing you could hear after that was everlasting silence, it screamed louder than any human could. It felt made me feel more uneasy than I already was, I should have just said something instead of leaving it alone._

_He ended up gripping my small hands, his fingers almost crushing me. I quickly looked at him, shocked, with my mouth agape. The look on his face was murderous, I felt he was going to do more than just glare. He was struggling to keep composure but I knew he was angry. More than angry, furious even. The fire in his eyes made me want to run, I felt like the flames were going to eat me alive._

_But he didn't hit me, or even yell, instead he did something far worse in my opinion. He spoke in the most deadly tone I had ever heard, it wasn't loud or at a normal volume. It was an incredibly steady choice of quiet words. If it wasn't so silent, I wasn't so sure I would have heard him speak._

_I watched as his lips, pink and softly looking, whispered. "You don't love me, Bella? You don't care for me? Even after everything I have done for you? After everything I have given you? Did it all mean nothing, does me loving you mean nothing?" He didn't wait or stop for me to speak. "Is daddy mean to you? Does he call you names or hit you?"_

_I shook my head feeling smaller and smaller with every breath. I instantly felt worse than I had in the first place. "Doesn't daddy love you?" I should have just lied to him, made him smile. It wasn't that mean of a thing to do, lies make people happy. They didn't know they were lies the were hearing, what damage could they do?_

_"Yes," my voice came out very broken and I realized my lips were starting to shake. I always ended up crying in these situations, it was unavoidable it seemed. I couldn't handle conflict, it wasn't my best suit. It seemed to try to take a hit at me every time it was in the room. I feared being vulnerable, but there was no other word to describe what I was._

_I was molding clay, I needed to be sculpted to form something. In this stage I was mushy and I was putty in his hands. I fell for everything he said, I jumped into his trap, not fully knowing what the consequences would be. I didn't think before I acted, that was the most problematic quality I had._

_"Don't you love daddy?" he asked, coming closer. I didn't move, I stayed exactly where I was. I didn't hesitate before I spoke this time. "Y-yes."_

_"Tell daddy you love him." He reached over and held his hand to my face. My cheek felt oddly warm against his palm. I felt like I was burning._

_"I love you, daddy."_

_Soft as summer days,_ he left me to lay alone on the bed. I was curled up comfortably on my side when I heard his slightly loud footsteps. Streaks of tears were sill falling down my face and I was happy enough that I wasn't facing him. I wasn't so sure I would be able to handle it just right now. I was still too freshly wounded from before. I was my own enemy, I made myself feel worse than he ever could.

I felt the bed dip as he came behind me, his face deeply buried into my hair. He sighed, while bringing his arms fully around me. They were crossed around my shoulders, his thumbs stroking the sides of my arms. I reached up with a hand to put it over his. It meant to say I was feeling better, we didn't need words to communicate, a simple gesture spoke louder than words.

I was in a restless daze, staring at nothing in particular. Where my tears had been, the air felt cool against. My skin was numb, my eyes so sore I wanted to close them, but I didn't. I hadn't cried ever since I had first come here, I didn't understand it. I thought I wouldn't ever again, but life works in mysterious ways. I hadn't felt like this for so long, now it seemed to all be pouring out.

"Shh," he told me, his hot breath setting my skin on fire. My ragged breathing didn't stop, the sobs that rocked through me didn't subside. I was in disbelieve as I heard myself. As my body shook, the cool moisture of his tears dripped into the curled mane of my hair. I wasn't the only one suffering, but I had the bulk of the pain. But it hurt, evermore so, to know he was too. It wasn't rational but I felt for the creature who had made me this way. The one who showed me feeling like this even existed.

"It's okay," Edward whispered, into the crook of my neck.

I almost couldn't listen to him speak, the murmur of his words too tortured to belong to a monster. I wasn't meant for something like this, but I let it all happen anyway. He chased,_ I didn't run._ He caught me, _I didn't struggle_. He forced me,_ I didn't stop him_. Everything was as much my fault as it was his.

I lay there in his arms forever, his prisoner.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who is enjoying this story. It feels great to have it back up, and just to let you guys know, I'm starting to write the final chapters. For this chapter, and many chapters of Think of England, they are written as memories that Bella has growing up with Edward, up into the present and beyond, ranging from her being 17 to around 19 when the memories end.**

**Bella's Age: About 10 years old**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.**

**Warning: This and many other chapters of this story include very explicit and graphic scenes that are not meant for those who are underage. If you are uncomfortable with that, I suggest you do not read.**

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"The thing is you can get used to anything. You think you can't, you want to die, but you don't. You won't, you just are." - Elizabeth Scott

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_Each day I spent with Edward, I could feel myself slowing growing larger. My clothes had become tighter the more I wore them, my shirts clinging to my flat chest, with my pants digging into my petite hips. He said I was blossoming from a bud into a beautiful flower, a child into a young woman. When he spoke about me, his eyes shined, the green of his iris seemed to burn an intense consuming fire._

_The movement of his lips were constant as he talked of all the different kind of clothing he was going to buy me. The wardrobe consisting of a cream overcoat, many and several pale pink shirts, trousers and free flowing skirts. I listened while holding his cold hand, while the other lay over it trapping mine. But even with the both of them, there was no warmth, the only feeling of life coming from my palm._

_From the past year, I had learned from observing him that he had a lot of money. But I was confused watching as he occasionally pulled out a handful of bills, for whatever reason, to pay or buy something for the both of us. He didn't work for a living. He was always with me, spending many of the days hours to do everything we could. He would never leave me alone, it seemed he only went away when I was dreaming, but even then a night couldn't completely pass by without him coming to check on me at all hours of the night._

_He had to know if I was still breathing, still alive, still laying in my small bed. I never tried running away from him, I knew he would always catch or find me. I knew he wouldn't just let me go. If he had woken me, my eyelids fluttering open from the small squeak of the door and the light projecting from the hallway, he would crawl into my bed._

_He always seemed to be apologizing, he would be sorry for waking me from my sleep. His large body seemed to be too big for him to lay there and hold me, his right leg slipping off of the side. He would stroke my hair softly away from my face, running his fingers through my brown locks. He would always say he loved them, always touch them, always breathe into them._

_He would hold my head down on his chest, his hand still weaved through my curls, humming something I had grown accustomed to hear before in the late hours before going to be. The composition was beautiful, sometimes I even tried to stay awake even for a bit longer, just to hear it. He wouldn't stop until my breathing slowed, but even then he lingered, kissing my forehead with his gentle lips. I could feel them even in sleep, I could always feel him._

_When we shopped, looking through several stores, I wasn't really looking for clothes. I stood holding his hand, wearing his large polo shirt , the sleeve touching my elbow. It was a light blue which reminded me of the sky but it had a tint of darkness that couldn't classify it a fluorescent. It smelled just like him, but I always did. I had gotten used to the smell, it seemed too fresh, too clean to belong to anyone. _

_He wanted everything he saw, he wanted me to try on everything he go his hands on. I didn't though, he said he could just see me in it already. I looked up at him, watching him smile slowly at me before palming my cheek in his hand. "You're happy aren't you baby?" I nodded, reaching with my arms to motion to him to pick me. He did, of course he did. Laughing as he held me, his massive chest making me vibrate with his sounds._

_"Isn't she adorable?" a saleswoman asked. I turned to look at her, watching as her cheeky fake face came nearer. I grabbed the back of Edward's neck, my hand pulling on his hair. He looked down at me and I pleaded with my eyes. He knew I didn't like strangers, he didn't like them either. But we had to remain inconspicuous, not make a scene, no one could know anything._

_"Yes," he whispered, leaning over so he could kiss my cheek. I turned to hide my face in his neck, the waves of my hair slightly moving with the action. "She's a little shy." I felt him explain, I could feel anxiety rise in my stomach, I wanted her to go away. What is she recognized me? What if she knew me? But I knew she didn't, we were far away from home. I was far away from home. _

_Edward didn't seem panicked as he held the back of my head, his fingers sneaking under the curtain of my hair. He started to rub his fingertips slowing on the nape of my hair, stroking his thumb slowly back and forth. I closed my eyes, hugging his neck tighter, before sighing. "Is she tired?" I heard her ask. I wanted her to go away. _

_"Yes, she hasn't had her nap yet today," he responded calmly. I had never seen or heard him interact with another human being, I didn't like it. I felt like he was going to go away and I was going to be left alone. He was all I had, I was all he had. Nothing would ever change that, he once told me. "A growing girl needs her rest." She prodded, she was closer now. I could feel her right behind me, in front of Daddy._

_"How would you know what she needs? I'm sorry but I don't wish to continue speaking to you," I could hear curt anger in his voice. I wanted to smile, knowing she would go away. I wanted her to go away. It seemed she never would. "I didn't mean anythi-" He turned heading toward our cart and to the register. I watched the disappointment in her face, the makeup allowed me see that much. I didn't feel sorry for her, not even when she raised a measly hand to wave goodbye at me._

_"It's okay now, Bella. I'm so proud of you," I could hear sincerity in his voice. I hadn't done anything I wasn't suppose to. Hadn't cried, attracted attention intentionally, and even showed her that I was his. She couldn't see how I was his, how deeply and tightly I was bound. But I was, more than her mind could probably comprehend. Never would she be able to imagine, picture the relationship we had._

_"Daddy," I said, pulling my face back from his neck, instead putting my small hands on the sides of his neck. He looked at me, his eyes almost glowing, an ever growing smile on his face. "Yes, baby?" he asked. We were now at the conveyor belt, behind a mother who looked stressed out with her little girl frantically pulling at her hand. He never looked at me that way, tired, almost lifeless._

_"I'm glad you made that bad lady go away." I reached forward and kissed his cheek chastely. "No one will ever take you away from me, Bella."_

_When we got home, Edward was carrying armfuls of boxes, and held bags from his left hand. I was holding a small bag, the outside of it a crisp black, the rough handle bothered my soft fingers. I didn't say anything, if he could have carried me, he would have. I felt bad for having him carry everything inside, even giving me the key to unlock the house. It was still a yellowish-orange outside, the temperature although decreasing. It was nearing the end of August, the small calendar by his study let me know the exact day and date._

_He told me to go to my room with the black bag I had, after putting everything down on the coffee table in the living room. He wanted me to try on the white garment in the bag. It was a soft nightgown. I did what I was told taking off my coat, my shirt and pants falling to the ground. I pulled it out of the bag, looking at the material closely, it was beautiful but I wasn't sure if I would be able to wear it. _

_The top and trim were white lace, the fabric of the gown a soft cotton. I wasn't sure why he wanted me to wear it at this time, it hadn't been near bedtime, only a five minutes after six o'clock. I smoothed over the gown, before bending to gather up my day clothes. I walked down the hall, looking for the hamper, throwing them into it before placing the top back on. I could hear the rustling and the impact of hollow boxes on one another in the other room._

_I found him in the living room, holding up each item of clothing, before softly pressing it into is face with his lean hands. I stared from across the room, my hand wrapped around the edge of the doorframe. "Daddy?" I asked, my voice small and quiet. He looked over, his eyes slowly moving from the top of my head, to my smooth barrel curls, to my face. Still of a child, my eyes large and of a doe. _

_He eyes lingered on my on my mouth, my smooth lips an untouched pink. He continued to lower his eyes, his breathing coming up short. From the modest top trim, the white flowing loosely from my chest all the way to my knees. The skin on my arms were covered with goosebumps, the small undetectable hairs on the back of my neck standing up. _

_"My little girl looks so beautiful, doesn't she?"I looked down, bashful, the tingle in my cheeks, the warmth of my blood rising to the surface of my skin. I blushed, looking down, playing with my hands. I didn't say anything to him, wondering why the words he had just spoken had such an effect on me. I heard his footsteps come nearer, the shirt in his hands dropping on the sofa. _

_I felt his hands first, his fingers closing lightly around either sides of my jaw. He titled my face up, while he started to get on his knees to kneel in front of me. His face seemed too close to mine. His eyes smoldered as his brought his face only mere inches from mine, before kissing the the top of my button nose. He chuckled when my face scrunched up, the feel of his lips tickling my face. _

_"My little baby, my Bella." He leaned his forehead on my cheek, moving his hands to cup around the tops of my arms. He stayed motionless for a few moments, simply breathing against me before he said, "Let's get you to bed." I felt his words come out of his mouth, before he took his skin off of mine. He looked into my eyes once more before standing up and gently gathering me up in his arms._

_The steady rhythm of his steps made me move with him. I wrapped my small arms around his neck, while I felt his left arm hold me up by my bottom. The touch wasn't vulgar, his hand didn't reach to touch me intimately, instead supporting me by holding the side of my thigh. It was effortless for him to carry me, I felt like a single feather in his arms. My head was tucked under his chin, while I let my head lay on his shoulder. I could hear him breathing, in and out, against my face. I felt his heart beat thump, thump, thump under my neck. _

_The door to my room was open, the soft colored walls an introduction to the pink sheets, bedspread and pillows. On the far right corner was a small book case filled with various novels; the works of Shakespeare, Austen and Bronte. I hadn't read all of them yet, Edward liked to take his time while reading them to me. Either during lunch time or before I went to bed._

_The light was off, my little light although wasn't. It was of princess, the shadow comforting in the darkest of nights. On the left side of the room was a mahogany desk, a white journal neatly place in the center. It was covered with elegantly drawn butterflies, and right under them was written 'Isabella' that almost looked like calligraphy. When I had first gotten it, I was almost too afraid to touch it. _

_Instead of laying me on the bed like a piece of glass like I was used to, he cradled me against his chest, pulling the covers away before sitting down. He kicked off his shoes quietly, moving them with his foot to the end of the bed on the floor. His left hand held the majority of my stomach as he pulled the blanket over us. His back was leaning against my headboard, his feet slightly hanging off the end of the bed. _

_The covers only reach up to under my chest, nearly half the top folded under my arm. My head is lain on his stomach, I can feel he isn't as soft as me, yet lanky but there is strength in his muscles. He is much bigger than me and I feel I look younger than I really am. I feel I am trapped inside a body that is too small for who I am. I don't say anything to him about it, or anything at all but I can feel his eyes on me. _

_I am not staring, simply gazing at the soft colored walls. I want to close my eyes, but I don't, I only let my hand go limp right above where it feels like his belly button is. "Bella," he whimpers, the tone in his voice startles me, the sound of desperate need. I look up to see his eyes are wet. He is crying and I don't know what to do. I lift my head up higher, just a bit, and reach to wipe his tears away. "What's wrong, Daddy?"_

_I have never seen him this way, and it is scaring me. I don't like it, I want it to stop. I want him to stop crying. "My angel, would you tell me the truth?" he asks, holding my chin with shaky fingers. His lips tremble and the Adam's apple in his throat keeps bobbing. I nod saying, yes. "Would you ever leave me?" I look into his eyes, a deep maze within them. I don't know which way to go or which way to turn. I say whatever comes to mind, but it's the truth._

_"No, never Daddy." He sobs violently for a minute before pulling my face next to his, our cheeks touch, and mine are suddenly covered with moisture. His tears on my skin, the salty liquid burned. _

_"I never want you to leave, never," I listen as his short breaths, the sounds loud in my ears. His arms are crossed behind my back, my chest pressed against his tightly. I can't breathe properly but don't say a word. I can't, I am silenced by his vulnerable behavior. Never had I seen him this way, heard these noises, felt such emotion. He always seemed to be the stronger one, I was supposed to be the weak one. It was suddenly too much to be strong for the both of us._

_"Daddy, what happened?" I ask, but I know it's already too late. I know it will do no good, but whatever is making him this way is making him make me this way. It was a never ending circle. _

_"They left me. My mommy and my daddy. Be-fore..before I became your Daddy. But now I have you, always." I don't know what to say or think about what he has told me. He was feeling the same way I was, we were both broken. But we were broken together, he needed me, and I needed him. Nothing would tear us apart. Nothing would ever break the both us apart. If they did, we would both suffer, both die a little more inside._

_"Always," my voice is lower than a hushed whisper. We are both then deadly silent, I do not know what will come out of what he has told me. I don't know if I understand his reasons, if they are logical or not. But I knew how he was feeling, how it was to lose the most important things in your life. But he was now important. He was all I had, and I was all he had. There were no others. _

_He falls asleep before I do, holding my body some what upright in his arms. My face rested in his his neck, my nose nuzzled against the part right under his jaw. His soft breathing seemed to take me into another world, another universe, the same significance that is of life. Were we really both alive and breathing? Were we really covered in flesh and blood skins? Was there anything inside?_

_I thought back to the journal on my desk, I could only faintly see it from where I was. My hand had itched to touch the cover, the delicate sparkles on the wings of the butterflies. Teal and lavender, with a shimmer of pink. I could almost see the words written on the first page, a letter from him. _

_Dear Isabella,_

_I am concerned when you are silent, I never know if what I am doing is wrong or right. When I see your face, all I see are your eyes. The openness of them is how I can tell what you are feeling. I need them, or else I am lost. Your emotions reflect in them, almost like a mirror staring back at your soul. You are the fairest of them all. But I don't just want to see you, I want to hear you. Hear what you think, what you feel, what you want to tell me. I wish I could read your mind, I expose mine even when I don't mean to. I can't imagine what it is to be locked away with only concrete walls for company. This book is your freedom, it will give you enough strength to stretch your bars. I hope to hear from you._

_Forever Yours,_

_Edward_

_The things I have written in it since are true, but not the entirely of my thoughts are written inside the pages. It is a halfway of saying I am trying. But I don't know how much longer until the book is filled and when I will want to write the most, I won't be able to say anything. _

_I am knocked out of my daze when I feel myself slowly succumb to the emptiness of thoughts that come with sleep. I feel myself falling, my arms put out to stop me. But they don't do anything, just help me to dive into the sea of shadows. My mind a graveyard of dead thoughts and broken memories. It feels as if the cold abyss of my mind has frozen me solid, forever encased in my own solitude._

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**A/N: I hope everyone appreciated my efforts, if you have, please leave a review. They are always special to me. And if you haven't done so before, check out the links on my profile.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I had a bit of a hard time on this chapter, I hope it does not show and it is easy to understand. While writing I wasn't really feeling all that good. I thought this wasn't much, but I hope it's something good to read. Bella is now 10 years old in this chapter, but to let you know and keep in mind, she looks much younger and is smaller than most.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.**

**Warning: This and many other chapters of this story include very explicit and graphic scenes that are not meant for those who are underage. If you are uncomfortable with that, I suggest you do not read.**

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Chris Corner on the song _Empathy ( _from_ Sneaker Pimps): _

"It plays with androgyny and incest. It's a personals things, I don't want to sound like a pervert. It's about a specific person I'm in love with. It's about wanting to become that person, be inside that person, be everything to that person: brother, father, mother..everything."

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_He sees me and I cower, I don't want to go. He can't make me, but I know he can, and he will. It is nearing seven o'clock and I can hear his voice, growing nearer and nearer by the corner I am sitting in. I don't want to take a bath, but I know it is inevitable, that I must reluctantly shed my clothes and head to the porcelain tub. But I insist on staying with my small arms wrapped around my knees, holding my shaky legs to my chest._

_I can see his polished boots from where I am sitting, the wall behind me is hard and cold against my spine. I don't want to go. I can feel him standing above me, his body in front of mine, and then he is kneeling. He takes my face into his hands and I am overwhelmed by his presence. I am trapped between him and the wall behind my wooden desk. He wants to look into my eyes so he tilts my face so I am looking up at him. He seems too big, too tall. I watch as he comes closer, and starts to stroke the pad of his thumb across the skin of my cheek._

_"Isabella," he says, he only ever calls me that when he is in fear of becoming upset, or when he feels I am in risk of being upset. But I already am, and my face tells him so. But still he continues to plead with me, his voice and eyes soft and quiet. He tries to soothe me, and I want to tell him to stop. I want to tell him I will do anything he says, that I will obey, that he doesn't have to try so hard. But I don't. I simply gaze at his face, emotionless as I wait for him to stop talking._

_He tells me that I have to, that I shouldn't be afraid of him, that he wasn't going to touch me. But I know I should be scared and that he will touch me, that he does every time. He doesn't think he hurting me or that it is inappropriate, but even when I am clean, I feel dirty. I don't like the way I feel after, or how I want to cry when I see him go in the next room to grab a towel. I don't, I only stare at the spot between my thighs and try to squeeze my legs together as tightly as I can._

_Without a word he picks me up and I have nothing else to do than to put my arms around his neck. It is dark within the small room, he doesn't have to shut the light, the switch was already turned out. I look down at collar of his shirt stubbornly and I can already feel his chuckling, the sound making the corners of his mouth curl. He is staring down at me and I try to hide my face with my hair. I don't want to look at him, it will only make things worse._

_But just as I think he cannot look at my face openly without a struggle, he pushes away the curtain of my curls, his hand sneaking up under my almost translucent jaw. "Your beauty should never be hidden, or ever disguised. It would be a crime if it ever was and an unforgivable tragedy." I take his words lightly, not feeling as if there were any truth in them. He sees the look on my face and slowly pinches his forefinger and thumb around my round cheeks, bringing them together. The pressure creates a pout on my face and I can feel myself unconsciously frowning._

_I do not say anything to him and wait for him to take his hand away from my face, I am already feeling uncomfortable but he tries to lessen the feeling by rubbing my back with his removed hand. The gesture is somewhat comforting as I feel the soft motions as they circle across my shoulder blades. He isn't looking at me anymore, instead at down the hall, he is still walking. He opens the door, the cool metal handle turns, and my vision is suddenly overwhelmed with light._

_The bathroom is a blistering white, the color almost blinding. I feel that it isn't really a bathroom, I wonder if the walls are really as solid as they look. I know they are but I am feeling like I am not really in this room to bathe, that this is some sort of place that people who aren't really right in the head belong. I feel it is the perfect place for the both of us but do not comment. _

_I start to disconnect my arms from around his neck before we are even halfway in the room, but he doesn't set me down until we are by the tub, letting me down by the far right corner. I watch as his long body leans down to turn the facet on, the water starting to fall out. He turns the handles slowly, reaching with his fingers to dip them into the water. He waits for the temperature to be just right, a mix between hot and warm, while I stand not so gracefully on my toes._

_He lets the water continue to fill the tub before turning to face me. I stand there, looking up at him, waiting. He starts to sink down to his knees to kneel in front of me, and I step closer to his outstretched hands. I do not understand why he has to do this every time, that I cannot or am unable to take off my clothes myself, but this is what he wants. I stand awkwardly as he first starts to caress my face softly before letting his hands wonder down the side of my arms._

_He continues to do this before letting them go down the path of my collarbone to the side of my stomach, then he lets his hands slowly sneak up under the hem of my cotton tank. His hands are cold on my skin, and they are larger with the both of them. I feel I am surrounded by everything that is him, and corrupted by the feeling of him. He starts to stare at his hands underneath the light material before finally slowly pulling it off of my body._

_I continue to look down at him, as I raise my arms so that my chest and stomach are naked. I am blushing as I feel his eyes on me, an uncomfortable rise in my stomach, but I do not attempt to cover myself. He would only push away my hands and arms, lock my wrists between his fingers and try see more. I can't ever go against him, there was simply no use in trying to. I would only lose._

_He doesn't stare too long but that is only because I am shaking, he knows he has to stop, even if it is for a moment to wait for me to calm down. I am not showing any emotion on my face but discomfort, he strokes his thumbs on my the edges of my shoulders. He then takes his hands and brings them near the elastic band of my gray shorts. They come to the middle of my thigh, and do not weigh much or even feel like much to begin with._

_He loops his fingers underneath the top and pulls down, the strings swing slightly as he brings them down my legs. I step out of my them and feel his hand come around my ankle, lifting it, he discards my clothing to the side. The only thing left that I am wearing, the only thing separating him and me is my underwear. It is plain white, and is far lower than my belly button. It sits just about where it is intended to stay. I shiver feeling his ghostly hands brush lightly around the hollow of my pelvis. I look at him and he looks at me and smiles._

_The smile doesn't do anything for me or prepare me for what he is about to do next. I brace myself, bring my hands to rest lightly on the top of his shoulders, him having guided me to do it. It helps me keep my balance as he swoops down and pulls them away from my hairless body in a slow, but swift motion. The air on my uncovered body makes my skin feel cold, and I step into his waiting embrace. _

_He picks me and turns the water off, finding it almost more than half the tub full. I am set down in the bathtub, the shallow water pleasantly lukewarm against the cool surface of the porcelain. I sit, wiggling my bottom around a bit, moving my arms in circles making the water ripple sounds in my ears. I am so distracted in what I am doing, not to notice him ready with a clear reddish bottle in his hands. He chuckles at me, raising a finger to lightly brush the bottom of my chin in a smooth trail._

_I look at him and try to behave myself, I do not let myself give away what I am feeling, instead I try to hide my inner turmoil with a small blush. This causes him to lean down more than he is already kneeling on the tile floor, and kiss me softly on the forehead. He pulls back after longer than I had hoped he would and turns slightly to set the bottle down next to him, on the ground. He starts to close the tips of his fingers around the small edges of my delicate neck, and slowly but gently lowers my head into the water._

_I lay down, feeling the locks of my hair drown and wave all around me. My hands are rested at my sides, floating as I anticipate his next move. He has filled the tub with some kind of soap that makes a fuzz of bubbles, I feel them on my body and slowly start to pull the peculiar particles apart with my fingertips. They spread and separate while I play with them and he is ready to start to wash my hair. He lifts me up them, the water than had soaked my hair, slowly dripping down the curve of my back. _

_I can hear him opening the bottle, pressing down the hard plastic in the front, then slowly squeezing the shampoo into his palm. He snaps the bottle shut with his thumb and then starts to massage the soap into the roots of my hair. His fingers work in slow circling motions and he gathers my hair in his hands, making sure that scent of strawberries is equally distributed. "Close your eyes," he says, his voice is very quiet and I can tell he is worried about anything getting into my eyes. I close them, my eyelids coming over my pupils, and wait for him to decide that my hair is clean._

_"Lean your head back into the water..just like that," he murmurs softly, he does this every time and I know that he is smiling. I can hear it in his voice that he is happy, but I do not return it, instead imagine the suds of bubbles surrounding me. I want to look at them but continue to keep my eyes shut. His long lean fingers dip into the water, first focusing near the top of my scalp, around the roots of my hair, moving it around to clear it of soap. _

_The water makes soft, almost muffled noises of splashing as he moves his hands around. I open my eyes, finally, almost cautious in fear of him seeing me. But he is so focused on my hair that I have enough time to look at him. He is looking at the top of my hair, it darker when wet, he weave his fingers in it to make sure there is nothing left. The sleeves of his black crew neck sweater are rolled up at his elbows, his forearms covered in almost non-existent hair. It isn't dark or light, I would have not been able to tell if he had any if we weren't this close._

_His arms are close to my face, and he angles them so that they are not accidentally hitting me. He is finally done when he rinses his hands in the water surrounding me, but I am not yet done bathing. He reaches with his hand to grab the bar of soap in the dish, it is built into the wall of the shower. I do not pay attention to him as I lay there, feeling the water suffocate my ears from all sound._

_I don't care to sit up and he doesn't say anything or object to the way I want to be washed, I only want it to end. But he takes his time, slowly dragging the soap over my wet skin. The bar seems small in his hand as he reaches to lift each arm until it is slightly above the water. He rids them of only a day of the outside world, but I feel still soiled. I am reborn in the water as he washes me, taking the soap between his two hands to create a lather._

_He spreads it over my chest, the feeling of him on me isn't right, The way he is touching me makes me want to flinch away, whimper, cry. But I don't, I only focus on the soap, the demeanor of the liquid and the touch of the air almost making it seem sticky. But I am taken out of my mind when I feel him stop washing my shoulders and collarbone, his hands disappears from my body, his touch suddenly not there. _

_It is not long before I feel him again, only this time he isn't just washing me, he is touching me. He starts to linger around the lower end of the left side of the tub, taking my small foot away from me, into his hands. He has a washcloth in his hand and he skims it along the arch of my foot. My left leg in his hand, feeling his caress and hold. He near above the middle of my thigh and I do not close my eyes, I can't. I can't don't anything._

_His thumb presses into my flesh, where he really wanted to touch, to feel, to have. He brings the soap slowly, my hands fist at my sides, clenching. They are clenched tightly, so tightly I can feel the sharpness of my nails pierce mt skin, but not even to dig deep. I try to focus on what I am doing to myself, but I can't. I can't do anything. I only feel him palm my innocence, the bar of soap near it, and feel a single finger trail over my bundle of nerves._

_He repeats this action, never once doing more than that . He eyes are staring intensely into the water, the bubbles have shied away, none of them are left on the surface. The air on my skin is starting to make me feel cold, the draft creeping onto my skin. I don't move, I can't. I can't do anything. I don't until I feel his finger slowly dip inside me. He isn't far too in, but it is enough to make him groan to himself, I open my eyes._

_The top third of his finger does not move, it only stays still in my heat. He allows himself only that, but either way I want to move away from him. I don't, I can't. I can't do anything. I only wait until he removes his hand, he doesn't say anything as he starts to stand. He is going to get something to dry me off, and I slowly move to start to sit. My hands come up at the edges of the smooth white, it seeming colder than the air. I fight the undying urge to cry._

_The invasion of him has stirred something inside me and I cannot feel anything other than being helpless. I was never going to get away from him, never escape, never be saved. It is almost too much to even hope for, even dream of, the chance of freedom much too far away. He returns back for me and his hands are clutching a furry looking white towel. His eyes are on mine and I wan to look away, but I can't. I can't do anything. I let him take my hand to help me stand, beads of water roll down my body and I shiver._

_He takes me into his arms, wrapping me in the towel, before picking me up so that my chest rests on his shoulders. I suspect he is taking me to my room but am surprised to see he stops at the door next to mine. It is open and the light is on. I have been in his room before, almost at least once a day, but I am not sure what is in store for me. My wet hands fist around the roots of his hair and he knows I am nervous. It is a habit of mine when I do not know what to say in an uncomfortable situation._

_But I know he likes my hands in his hair, he often closes his eyes for a second, he has said so. He likes my hands in his hair, but I do not. I do not know how to feel as he sets me on the bed, it is much larger than mine and I feel as if it is going to swallow me up. The clothes I am to wear are already lain on the bed, next to me. it is the nightgown I have been wearing for some odd months, but I am used to wearing it. He washes it everyday, and everyday I wear it. _

_He unfolds the towel from my naked chest, taking it out of my hands as I hold it against me. He uses it to pat me dry and wraps it around each of my limbs and rubs them dry. He doesn't look at me but my body. When there is nothing more to be dried he starts to kiss me. He kisses my cheeks, my neck, my collarbone, my arms. He doesn't kiss my chest but lazily kisses my stomach, his head is bothering me, the way he is positioned above me is wrong._

_I am unnerved when he kisses the insides of my thighs, his cool lips press against my skin, and they do not move. I feel myself start to slowly shake and the insides of my stomach feel like I have been stabbed, a knife painfully wedged deep. He moves to my ankles and I do not move. I can't, I can't do anything. But then his lips are gone and I start to breathe again. I didn't even notice I wasn't, the ache in my lungs not far enough as bad as the way I felt, sprawled out in front of him. I feel him put on a pair of underwear on me, lifting my legs._

_He lifts his head when he is done and smiles at me, my hands are at my sides, tightly gripping the bed sheets. I look into his eyes and I can see myself. The moment doesn't last long as I am lost in his stare before he turns and takes the nightgown into his hands. He motions for me to lift my arms and I do, I felt the comfort of the soft cotton. I am no longer bare for his eyes to see. He reaches out and hugs me to his chest, kissing my head before lifting me._

_He puts me in the center of the bed, my back resting on his soft white pillows. I lay down and reach for the covers. I look at him the whole time I do that and notice him open his closet door, he is looking around for something, he kicks his shoes off. He lifts his arms and crosses them, swiftly pulling his shirt over his head and starts to unbuckle his belt. I bring the covers closer to my face and try to hide, but I can't, I can't do anything but continue to stare at him. I am so afraid that if I look away, something will happen in a blink of an eye._

_But nothing happens as he pulls down his pants, he is wearing boxers, they are blue. But I am relieved when he decides to put on a pair of sweatpants, but he doesn't look for a shirt. I watch as he slaughters over toward me and sneaks up under the blanket and tackles me with his arms. He growls playfully, his hands reaching to tickle my stomach and I can't help but to uncontrollably laugh. I do not like that I am laughing after all that has happened, but I do. And I can't stop._

_He laughs with me and sits up so he can look at my flushed face. My face is hurting and I let out a giggle as I see his hand slowly twitch in the air, he is playing with me, he is tricking me. The smile on his face is boyish, and he smiles so large that it looks like it is going to hurt him. But that is not the only thing I see, I see him chest. He is very pale, his skin is almost translucent and I can see his veins in his wrists. He is lanky but well developed and I feel like I am invading his privacy by looking at him. But I know he wants me to look at him. Like him. Love him._

_The tickle game is over when I see him reach over on the table next to his bed and pull out my brush. For some reason, it is never in my room, he always has it. I have never once brushed my hair since I have been with him, he does it every time. He helps me scoot over and I feel him come up behind me. His legs are on either side of me and he reaches to take my hair in his hands. He takes the brush and slowly starts at the ends, brushing out the small tangles and then starts to brush all of my hair back away from my face._

_The way he brushes my hair is very gentle, and as he holds the side of my head in his left hand I can feel his head very close to mine. My hair is still wet, but dry enough to be damp. It is starting to curl at the ends but it isn't a tight curl, my curls are like barrel curls, they are very big and wavy. I can hear him breathing, I think he is smelling me and I try to turn to look at him and I feel his big arms come around me._

_His narrow nose is skimming the back of my head, his face is buried into my hair. When he talks, his voice makes me unconsciously shiver as I feel his breath so close to my neck. "I love the way you smell, the way your scent paralyses all over my other senses. But most of all I love the way you feel. You are so soft in my arms and so warm. You're so warm, Bella. I love the way you sound when you talk, so quiet, so cute. When you blush, the way you face looks when the faintest of pink comes to your cheeks. But I hate..the way..your t-tears taste."_

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**A/N: Thank you all for the reviews, favorites and alerts. I like to know that everyone likes what I am writing and even that they are reading. I wanted it to be very slow in this chapter and am glad the way it turned out. If you have any questions, thoughts or just want to say anything please leave a review. It'd be very sweet of you ;P**

**Check out the links on my page, it'd mean alot if you followed or added me. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Aurora**

**A/N: I'm not sure how I feel about this. I took too much time avoiding to get into it, I've been working on other things. Thanks to everyone that has favorited, alerted and reviewed; you keep me going when I'm being lazy. Bella is 11 and Edward is 22 in this, I want to get some elements of everyday life and other aspects of their relationship; Bella's silence and Edward's calm authority.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.**

******Warning: This and many other chapters of this story include very explicit and graphic scenes that are not meant for those who are underage. If you are uncomfortable with that, I suggest you do not read.**

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"I tumble down on my knees, fill the mouth with snow. The way it melts, I wish to melt into you. Aurora, goddess sparkle. Shoot me beyond this suffer, the need is great. Spark the sun off." Björk_, Aurora - Vespertine_

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_I am sitting down, very still, when I feel him come around the sofa. He isn't sitting, or even leaning on the side, he is simply staring. I do not turn to look at him, but find it hard to pretend I don't notice him. I fail miserably at trying to continue to watch the pointless images flash before my eyes. I stop looking at the television and give up. I turn my head and meet his gaze._

_His isn't smiling exactly, but there is a hinting at the way his mouth is curved slightly. But it is not a happy curve, and there is no joy in his eyes. They are sad, and the expression on his face tells me something is wrong. I don't understand, I do not say anything, and neither does he. We are simply looking at each other with no words, we don't need any, we know each other so well that we can tell what each of us is feeling._

_He needs me, but I do not know how. He sighs and starts to step closer and I move myself a bit to the left to give him room. But I see I have made a mistake when a glimpse of hurt crosses his eyes, he wants to be close to me. I move back and he crashes sluggishly into the cushion next to me. He is facing me but his eyes are now closed._

_His left hand is behind his head, while his right is running its fingers through my hair, but I can see there in tension in even the most easy of touches. I continue to look at him, I don't understand what has made him this way, I am starting to worry. But before I can even fathom to contemplate what is going on in his mind, he starts to speak. "Bella." He opens his eyes, and they are liquid molten. "Why aren't you in bed, love?"_

_I can't answer him, my face is frozen and I have nowhere to look or turn but to him, I didn't want to go back. The hot air of my room and the feeling of sickness makes me sweat, the temperature of increasing body heat on my skin wouldn't go away. I was burning up and the little brushes of his hands cooled me down, I couldn't bare to imagine myself once again stuck in my bed, only to look up at the white ceiling._

_I still haven't spoken, it would be a struggle with the ache in my throat, I don't say anything. I don't even look at him now as I close my eyes and rest my head on the sofa cushion behind me. It feels as if the weight of my skull is pulling me down, if I let it wobble even a bit I will go crashing down. I don't feel so good and now I can feel his cool fingers on my forehead, he is closer now and I can feel him right against me. This time he takes his thumb, slowly and traces it over my neck to my jaw and then lets it finally rest on my throat._

_I make a small strained sound under the pressure of this small touch and before I know it, he is comforting me. He is telling me not to move or speak, that everything will be all right, that he will take care of me. Make me feel better, I can feel myself being held and I am moving. I am confused but do not let my eyes open, it is a strange bliss as I am in the middle of being awake and falling. I can hear his voice, only a whisper away, but even it is fading into the background of my subconscious. I can only lay there and give myself away._

_But it isn't long before I am pulled out of my cloud, as I feel his hands on my neck again, but this time they continue to move under the top of my nightgown. His hands are feeling at my chest, but as soon as the touch is there, it is gone. "Bella, open your eyes. This will only take a second." His voice is quiet and soft, but I can tell I am warmer than I am supposed to be by that tone. I try to open my eyes several times before I see his face. _

_I soon discover I am on his bed, and he is hovering over me, while leaning down over the side of the bed. I can see something that looks like a bottle, with a label on it, and he is holding a spoon. I immediately whine and turn my head to the other side of him and try to hide myself by burying my face in his pillow. I do not want to take it, I do not want to feel the sickly sweet tang of the medicine raw on my tongue._

_But before I can fret any longer, I hear the spoon hit the wooden part of his side table quietly, and he is reaching to turn my shoulder. He isn't frustrated or angry, he is just worried. He doesn't like to see me this way. I wish I could disappear into the softness of the pillow, but I am still there, and he is pulling me to sit upright against my will. My eyes are closed and I do not care to look at him, all I want to do is get away. I don't want to see him._

_He is always too cold, and I am trying to move away from him. He doesn't like that we are not close, and that I am pulling away, he is even holding my wrist tightly in his hand. I can feel my veins struggle to pump blood properly and I know he can feel the lush liquid pound underneath his thumb. He is looking at me and I don't even realize my eyes are open. I only know that they are stinging and I can feel the assault of air make them feel worse. I am teary-eyed._

_The look in his eyes makes me sink down lower onto the bed until I am laying straight on my back, he lets me and removes his strained hand from my arm. I am cooperating with him and even make an effort to show him I am sorry. My small hand grazes his chin before my arm feels like it is going to fall off, the feel of stubble is small, but it scratches my skin and leaves a feeling that stays with me even as he leans down so that he can rub his face on my palm. _

_"Baby," he lifts his head and turns it so he is looking into my eyes, the tone in his voice tells me he understands. "You need to take your medicine, I don't want to force you but it'll make you feel better, I promise." There is a small light in his eyes as tell him that I am giving up, simply staring at the table. His large hand wraps around my small wrist and he holds my hand to his face. Tears are prickling at my eyes, I move to brush an unwanted bead of salty water from my face. But he sees me, and do not know what to do or whether or not to drop the back of my hand._

_"Shh, there's no need to cry angel. Daddy's here, you know daddy's here for you, don't you?" he asks, his is sitting on the edge of the bed next to my legs. While my right hand is still on his cheek, his left holding it there, his right hand is slowly dragging his fingertips across my exposed collarbone. I nod, I know this, I know he is here. He is all that I have and I am all he has. _

_His fingers trail lazily from my collarbone to my aching neck, they curl around the nape of my head and his thumb is slowly rubbing the underside of my jaw. I am finding it hard to swallow and he leans down further and moves his hand to push my hair away affectionately, to feel my forehead. I have more than a fever and it is almost paralyzing, I do not want to move or speak. The coolness of his palm makes my eyes slip into the back of my head, my body has relaxed and I am trying to find some sort of peace, some sort of way to rest. _

_But I do not get far before he kisses my throat lightly, then with only a small lift of his hand, I feel his thumb slowly touch the skin near my eyelid. I open my eyes to look at him, he pulls away slightly to speak, but the act of seeing the serene sadness on his face makes me want to drown in my pain. "Open, for me." He already has the spoon, holding it with his forefinger and middle finger touching his thumb, I can see the syrupy liquid. I do not argue, I reluctantly part my pink lips all while watching his face._

_He positions his hand near my mouth, and with a swift but gentle movement, he lets the metal hit my tongue. It is it cool and hard, but I can still taste the strangely numbing redness, I have to drink it all. I do not want to swallow it, but after he takes the spoon from my mouth, he touches my throat making me close my mouth and push my tongue against the rough, the vile taste of it makes me squeeze my eyes shut. _

_He makes a sound telling me he is apologetic, and his face is sad. He knows I am in pain, but he can do nothing of it to make it go away, he can only numb it for so long. He cradles my left cheek in his palm and leans his face down so our eyes are aligned. His forehead touches mine, and a lock of hair from his head loosens and falls on my skin. He closes his eyes and I can't help but to do the same._

_I am tired, I am exhausted, I am weak. I can tell, he too, is on the verge of falling asleep as soon as he lays his head on the pillow next to my head. I had woken him up in the middle of the night, and kept him up for longer than he would have been after checking on me. He wasn't checking on me just because I was feeling ill, he checks on me every night. He needs to make sure I am in my bed, safe and sound. Peaceful to the point of having no care in the world._

_But tonight, I could only imagine the look on his face, the emotions he had felt when he saw an empty bed. The sheets had been messily thrown over to the side, a dent in the lump softness of my pillow, the room vacant of anything living. I wasn't sure if I was sorry, if I had felt bad, for I hadn't done anything rash. I could only wonder, the air cool against my overly warm body, my head so heavy I wasn't sure how long I would manage holding it up right._

_The relief, I knew, did make up for finding me up watching television nonetheless. The tense ache visible through his bare chest had lessened, but a crease of worry in his brow came when he had looked into my eyes. I couldn't keep the pain to myself, he saw everything of course, my hooded eyes told him something I could never. My voice was stuck in my throat, he knew me all too well._

_But he didn't care about the risk of him becoming like me, or catching a bug, he wanted me always. In sickness and health. He wanted me better, he thought he was making me better. But I couldn't argue over the fact that I hadn't been better without him, I hadn't felt this sane since I had went to bed only a few hours away. _

_He had been gentle, treating me like a piece of glass, even when I had told him I didn't want to go to sleep. I knew when I would wake, I would feel the same as I had before, but worse. He had listened, of course, to me. But he didn't do as I asked, even when I had held his wrist in my tiny hands to keep him from going. I didn't want to close my eyes, I was almost in tears when I saw him slowly shaking his head at me._

_He didn't want to put me to bed, he didn't want to leave me, but he knew I needed rest. "Shh, Bella. You need to sleep to get better. I don't want you to be like this, I know it hurts you. It hurts me, to see you this way. For me, please? For daddy?" I let his arm go, I let him go. Turning, I rolled over to face the wall, instead of seeing him leave. But he hadn't moved since he had spoken. _

_I could hear his steady breathing and feel his hand come on my mid-section. He pulled me slightly toward him, until my bottom was brushing, and against his thigh. I stared at the wall I was facing, the color and image blurry, silently before feeling his moist lips on the top of my arm by my shoulder. "Goodnight." I hadn't realized I had dosed off until I had woken up, in cold sweat, feeling as if I had been awake for an unknown amount of time._

_But this time, I wake up feeling too warm. Too hot. I couldn't breathe, the oxygen wasn't forcing into and out of my lungs. I couldn't move with his arm too snug around me, I was bound to his body. I feel even if I am, I wouldn't be able to stand or make my way out of the room. My small body is dying. _

_I can feel the cloud of vertigo over my head and in the deep part of my skull. The pain of an ever lasting headache and the heavy weight of dizziness causes to me to almost collapse back into his arm. But I do not collapse, he steadies me with his hands, putting them on my stomach. He pulls me back into bed, although I hadn't gotten farther than putting my legs over the side, and gently forces my back against his bare chest. _

_It is intriguing how he is up at the exact time I am trying to get away. He doesn't scold me or even handle me roughly, he just nuzzles his face into the back of my head, burying it in my hair. He is in a sleepy daze but that doesn't mean he is completely incoherent in his stillness, he keeps moving silently with little touches. His hands are overlapped on my stomach, but I can feel every finger individually digging slightly into my flesh. He is not hurting me._

_My legs stop much further up than his, the back of my small feet touching the solid caps of each knee. I am curled on my side, up to the point where he allows it with his hold on me, and all that confides my vision is the darkness of eyelids. I have no choice but to let my hands go limp and rest on his knuckles, the roughness of them scratch at my skin, chafing against the smoothness of my palms. _

_The only thing that can be heard is the quiet sounds of the night; our breathing is soft, the occasionally tussling of skin on skin and the steady pound and thump of our hearts so close to one another. I do not know how long I lay there, not knowing whether or not I am conscious, lost but serene in sickness._

_The morning breaks us up inside, the rays of sun invade the room, slipping sneakingly through the blinds from the side window. My eyelids flutter, my eyelashes brushing the ends of my cheeks. There are no arms around me, but I am not alone in the bed. I can feel him, feel his warmth right next to me, but he is stretching lazily. He groans as he feels his limbs pop, and the shrill of sense comes to his mind, he is waking up but I remain still._

_I keep pretending I am not awake, that I am not aware of all of the noises he is making, or the way he moves slowly with his languid body. To me, he sounds more like a man than a boy when he first wakes, his voice is rougher and the molten in his eyes tell me more than words can say. They tell me he has seen more than he lets on, and he feels more deeply but the most I see is his knowledge._

_He is not stupid or even near being a fool. But I know I am his weakness, I know I am all he has, I know he will never let me go. _

_When he is still, I know he is looking at me. I can feel his stare on my back, and that his eyes are lost in the color of my hair. He sighs to himself, before gently stroking stray locks of hair from my face. I am finding it hard to keep breathing evenly, or even make my face seem almost emotionless. But I do not need to keep trying as I feel his fingertips on the skin of my cheek._

_I am warm, and blushing. I can almost see his admirable smile, and the lingering gaze he has, I am all he sees. "You're so cute when you pretend."_

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**A/N: I hope this is okay. Please tell me if it's okay. I'm dying here because I'm not sure if this is enough. I have in mind what will happen at each age, and have ideas planned out. Roughly I think there will be 12 chapters. With an epilogue. And please check out my other stories if you haven't. I just put up a new one called, Molten.**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Sorry it's taken me so long to post, I haven't really had that much time to edit. I'm getting anxious about starting my last year in high school. But anyways, here you go :)**

**Ages: Bella, 12 ; Edward, 23.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.**

******Warning: This and many other chapters of this story include very explicit and graphic scenes that are not meant for those who are underage. If you are uncomfortable with that, I suggest you do not read.**

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_"So you came like a missile_  
_Falling on my head with the black sky_  
_Think you're giving but you're taking my life away_

_Like the drunk you convinced was sober_  
_You keep me falling over_  
_- In the broad daylight-_  
_Think you're giving but you're taking my life away"_

_- _IAMX, _Missile_

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_I have never been one for wanting or accepting gifts. But he has always been the one to give, I cannot refuse him as he pulls me to sit on his lap at the piano. He has written something for me, he is always humming a tune, I know whatever he composes is going to be beautiful. But that is not the only thing he says that he has for me today, this is just the beginning. I am silent as I feel him behind me, his lips slightly brushing the shell of my ear. He whispers softly, the erratic hush of his breathing making me unconsciously shiver back against his chest. "Happy Birthday."_

_I watch as his arms come around me and his hands are placed lightly above the ivory keys, he does not start to play, he doesn't until after he leans to kiss my head. His jaw is lain on my shoulder but it is as if I do not feel him on me, I can only hear melodic harmony of music in the air. The composition starts off very slowly and softly, almost so quietly I do not even hear what he is playing or even know if he is. But it slowly starts and builds in volume, sneaking up by crawling into my ears; I am struck by every cord that hits and cuts the air._

_It is stabbing and it is sharp; the blade diving and splitting skin, tearing flesh until it hits the marrow of bone. But even then, it keeps digging and scraping loudly, cracking and shattering fragments of calcium. The white almost milky shards spread and stick, puncturing, jabbing and leaving jagged holes in what is left of tissue around the muscle. But it is not a searing pain; it is a numbing pain that hurts all the more worse. The kind that stings and hold onto your limbs and will not go away even when it is on the verge of fading._

_As his fingers continue to move along the black and white keys, his inner forearms around my sides move faster and faster. They brush my waist and stomach until the song is almost at a close. He slows his motions and in the very last moments of the piece, I am almost in tears by the tenderness, the feeling that there will never be a time when I will be the able to feel such raw emotion. There is something haunting by what I have heard, it seems almost too innocent, so pure, but there is an underlying yearning for something more. There is a want, so potent, I feel my insides are churning with fire just with the sound of it._

_It sends chills down my spine and makes the invisible hairs on my arms and neck stand up; the intensity is almost too much for me to bare. But before I know it, the song has ended. He has stopped playing but I can't believe that it is done, I am left stunned into a quiet paradox; the mystery of all truth suddenly an enigma. There is too much that is floating within my mind; I am not sure what is really going through my head. My thoughts do not come with words, they come with images. Pictures of an older life; the blurriness of a women's smile, the twinkle in a man's eye, yellow curtains inside a blue room. _

_But there is sound too; the light sound of carefree laughter, voices that are almost intelligible in what they are saying, the final whisper of a breath from a kiss. _

_Before I start to drown in the sudden appearance of tears in my eyes, his arms come around my stomach and he presses me back into his chest. He is hugging me from behind while sitting, he doesn't say anything but moves his jaw from my shoulder, to tilt it so that he can press his lips on my collarbone. The softness of his hair is on my cheek, the bizarre color near my eye tearing my eyes away from the silk color of mahogany on wood._

_He hums contently near my cheek, taking his left arm away from my stomach, he lifts his hand to come up by the side of my face to push back my hair. He affectionately strokes it back away from my forehead and ruffles it to behind my ear. "Isabella." Isabell..Isabel..Isabe...Isa.._

_"Isabella, love. Don't you scare me like that!" I am shaken out of my slumber, feeling that with his hand curled around the top of my arm, he has awoken me. I blink several times and try to focus on the blurry image of his face before mine. I still cannot comprehend or even begin to understand what is going on, where am I, and how did I had ended up snuggling the sofa afghan. I do not remember the series of events that lead up to this afternoon. Have I lost my mind? "Love, calm down. You were having a nightmare."_

_I watch as his teary eyes search my own for the answers I would have never have given him if it had come to the time. Instead I watch his lips form a tight line, and hear the huff of his breathing near my ears. He isn't mad at me or trying to intimidate, he is nervous and afraid. I can see his vulnerability under his skin, his bones almost shaking. He is on his knees, kneeling on the side of where I am positioned and he has his hands on me. He pulls me up to sit in front of him and I can tell I whatever I had been doing in my sleep or how I had looked had given him more than quite a scare._

_Only I can't imagine what I have done, or what I must have looked like. Turning and stirring, shuffling and moaning, withering in a unyielding frightened state. "You're crying, love. Bella, what's wrong?" He opens his arms, and his voice is gentle and soft, his eyes pleading. _

_I can't help but rush into his embrace and clutch at the nape of his hair, and press my face into his neck, leaving the lines of my tears flowing and shining. I want to hate him, I want to hit him, I want to run away from him; but he is all I have left. I have nothing else or no one else. I am trapped with my forbidden fate, accepting his love for me that is for all the wrong reasons. The love that is nothing but wrong. _

_I sob and shudder, rubbing my face in the collar of his shirt, feeling his unsuspecting warmth on my flesh. He is holding me to him, tightly, with all of his might as if he had even lessened his hold, I would abruptly disappear before him. And he is crying too. He feels. He is alive. But still broken. "I'm here, baby. I'm here." I know he is, I can feel his unchaste kisses on my neck, his lips warm and urgent. His hands on my back, gripping and pulling and pushing until I feel his abdomen digging into my stomach. And how much bigger he is than me. _

_Almost too big, his frame devouring mine, no even counting the memories of what he has seen or done encased into the solitude of his body, his mind. I try to close my lips, keep them squeezed shut until there is nothing but heavy breathing making me move. He rocks me back and forth in front of him, moving one of his hands from my back and up to the ends of my hair, twirling the locks between his fingers slowly. _

_Then sneaking his hand up beneath the thick curtain of my hair, he moves pasts my curls and to the back of my neck, rubbing the end of his fingertips slowly, dragging, the soft feather of his touches making my eyes fall closed. "Tell me, please?" I stiffen slightly at the sound of his voice, still quiet, but with an edge. He wants to know, he wants to know how to love me, comfort me, save me. But he can't, he is the one causing my pain._

_"They-...they tried to take me.." He pulls slightly back until his nose brushes mine, and he starts to talk to me in a child-like tone. "Take you? Who?"_

_"This man tried to take me away from you." I try to be as convincing as I can, but I squirm under his infuriated gaze, his eyes darting back and forth losing themselves in my pools of tears. "Take you where?" _

_"A-away..I tried not to let him. I don't ever want to go, daddy.." His hand moves to cup my small rosy cheek, and his brushes his thumb back and forth, coming short on my bottom lip. His hand around my waist moves under my dress, going to the back of my thigh, tracing circles into my flesh with all four of his fingers, bringing me closer to his until I am standing in front of him. But all while he does this, he isn't looking at me, he is looking into the oblivion of his thoughts; even I cannot bring him back this time._

_"Away," his whispers and starts to close his eyes as his hand wander from the back of my thigh around to the side of my hip and to the front of my knee. The fabric of my cotton dress stays on his wrist, moving as he moves, and I carefully watch as his jaw clenches and unclench as I reach up once again to place my small hands on the heat of his neck._

_He sighs, the sound of it almost panic to my ears, and I continue to move my hands further up until that are in his hair. I smooth it back and grip it, letting the pads of my fingers touch his scalp almost secretly. He starts to murmur something, but I cannot hear him, even with such little space between his mouth and my ears. His eyes move behind his eyelids and I wish I never would have said anything at all._

_But I had to. I had to lie to him. There was nothing else closer to the truth of I what I fear the most and the fear I had felt when he had savaged me for himself. This was the most he had ever seen of my interior, the most of my heart I had let him touch and hold and have._

_I let him do whatever he wants with me his clay molding hands pinching, prodding and stretching. Smoothing over the edges if what I once was, holding and painting me with the brush of his delusion. But I am not only a mere statue or figurine, I am something much more than that. I am a mantle piece to behold and gaze upon until all longing a d admiration brings the fingers of temptation to touch._

_I hold no words and neither do my lips move, I am still and my eyes are hazed blurred glass. I am solid, yet mistakenly hollow, with no thoughts or feelings. I cannot, they are not mine if they are._

_It is another day and another series of confusion and pretending. He is acting odd today, almost on edge and I do not want to go near him. I can hear the patting of his bare footsteps and I continue to stare blankly at my door. The light comes through the window behind me and shoots rays and lines that keeping moving and traveling along my walls._

_I can hear water and the creek of a door being shut. It does not slam, but there is an edge to the sound. My eyes strain against my tears of the act of waking up. I yawn and cover my mouth with my small hands. There is another creek._

_I rub my legs along each other under the covers and pull them up so that they are over my exposed collarbone. There is a chill in air and I breath in with a disturbance in my throat. The pounding of the floor lets me know he is wearing boots and that he is going to come in any second. Only a few more steps and only a few more breaths of freedom to breathe. I am no longer alone and my body is not my own. I am his now, forever and only his._

_I feign a few more moments of sleep and try my hardest not to squirm as the doors begins to open. He does this very silently and I can hear his lungs inhale and exhale. He speaks before I can give myself up. "Are you sleeping, sweetheart?" He whispers and his tone is soft and gentle. But his aura is not white or pink, but a dark gray that hurts my mind. He needs me. He always needs me._

_I listen to his soft, but anxious, breathing as he begins to enter the room. The door I hear creak slightly as it is carefully closed and the sun the lies beyond my window drifts along the horizon, bringing a shadow of darkness that I can see and sense with my eyes shut. I try my hardest to remain lying still on my bed, and to not look overly awake in dreaming, my face feigning sleep a little less believable. But thankfully he does not see through my act, but that is nothing as even as much to try to attempt to stop him._

_I can hear, if I strain my ears, him open and close his mouth, his saliva flicking between his teeth and awaiting lips before he whispers,"Bella." There is what I detect a strangeness of vulnerability and yearning in his longing, I cannot pretend anymore, pretend as if I cannot hear him or that I am not conscious. He needs me, and for as long as I am bound to him I will let him have me, feel me, taste me, kiss me, love me. _

_I belong to him and with ever fiber and morsel, cell and tissue, his. In life and death, in sickness and health, forever as we both shall live. I have no ambition to leave, I know the chances of my escape or to rid myself of him are nothing. They do not exist. He controls me, he keeps me, he has created who I am and who I will always be. A child with no soul to see, and in it's place, a blank space._

_I start to open my eyes slowly, almost making it seem like I am struggling with exhaustion, letting my eyelids flutter open and closed. I hold my blanket to my face, my hands clutching in desperation, and proceed to nuzzle my cheek into the pillow beneath my head. _

_I do not say anything, or make any action, there is not even a moment where I try to turn away or let my body flinch when he comes about to kneel by my stomach. The only thing I can do is feel his hand on my face, holding my cheek, and breathe in the smell of mint that comes from his mouth, his face mere inches from mine. _

_He looks deeply into my eyes, his forehead creased in thought. I do not know what he is thinking or even what he could be thinking about, but my body feels it. I feel his want, and his betrayal. His pain. And I know that I am the only one that can take it away, the only one he will let take it away._

_I do not push him away, but instead let him overwhelm my being with the weight of what he carries. Physical and mental. I feel everything as he starts to drag his lips along the base of my throat, grazing slowly, his hair brushing the length of my shaken shut jaw. I do not close my eyes. I never can._

_He starts to mumble and breathe against my skin, but I do not try to listen. I do not want to hear his words or his voice, but I can feel the vibration of him speaking, and it sends bumps and chills of pain to my stomach. I can feel everything. _

_My hands bound tightly in his startling grip. _

_His chest holding down my stomach, his thighs on my knees._

_His belt digging into my softest of spots. _

_His tongue moving down until it has divided and devoured._

_Legs wrapped and feet hanging behind his head. _

_"Beluh."_

_That is what I will remain, I will speak no words or hold the will to change my fate, to prove what he has done and what he is doing is wrong. _

_So here will I stay, suffering in silence._

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**A/N: I hate that this is so short, but it had to be, or else it wouldn't have turned out the same. And before you go please check out the links on my page and please review for this chapter if iit was worth your time.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Don't murder me, ok? (I know it's been more than a while) **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. **

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"Behind my smile, it shakes my teeth. Nobody knows, we go to sleep. As breathing flows, my mind recedes. I bleed."  
- Pixies

* * *

_I feel the cool porcelain of the edge of the tub underneath my thigh and I hold back the urge I have to exhale. I sit, motionless, staring at the blade he holds as it slides along his jaw line and down the curve to which it leads to his neck. I imagine the vessels and small tissues that are encased under such thin flesh, and the blood that would ooze if the skin would break with a slanted graze. But I do not get ahead of myself, he positions his strokes gently and with precision._

_He has just come out of the shower and he stands without a shirt to cover his chest. Small beads of leftover water are seen on his back and they slowly trail along his spine until they have no choice but to disappear until they can no longer remain. The air of the bathroom is humid, I can feel the moisture of it on my face, but I am not sure if it is only me or the room that makes me feel suddenly nauseous._

_He does not notice, instead focuses on his task at hand, dipping the blade gently into the sink of water, the splash hardly audible. I watch as the rims of small waves travel forward, until they hit the limit of space and come backward, fading until the blade once again sweeps and pulls through. A cover of foam stays on the surface, floating until it mixes completely, breaking into little bits of unnoticeable matter. _

_I have spent so much time observing and focusing, when he pulls out a towel and wipes the remainder of cream off of his face, I am silently surprised. He glances at himself, slowly inspecting his skin to see if there are any nicks, and there are none, and then turns back to me and catches my cheek in his palm. Tilting my face up toward him, he looks down and says, "Hurry, brush your teeth. I'll lay out your clothes." _

_He swoops down and kisses my forehead, firmly planting his lips, leaving them there until his hand comes back up under my hair and strokes his thumb on my neck. I look down when he leaves, and feel my own fingers reach to touch the spot that is left burned with his caress. The skin that I feel is smooth, unmarred, and painted ivory. I wonder what it would feel like if it weren't. If I wasn't the person I am. The little girl that everyone sees me as._

_If I were different. I can imagine, I can dream, but I will never feel the freedom that comes with those words. _

_I turn and look at myself at the mirror that is attached to the wooden cabinet. I stare at my face as if it is not my own, feel my cheekbones, see that they are pink and with little bumps of fat on the marrow of my bones. I twist and turn the flesh, my hands pinching and mean under my eyes. Bitter pulls around my lips and sharp pressure on my jaw. What is there that I am not familiar with? That he is not?_

_What keeps him coming back with such need and desire to be close to someone other than himself? Do his eyes deceive him, or does he like the feel of something small beneath him? That he has created and cared for as if it were his own? But I guess I am, I was reborn with a body that gives the love that he has never received. The love that he thinks he shows me, that it is right. Only, it is not love, or even lust, but his disillusion of psychosis._

_I inspect my teeth sharply as I swipe and scrape the hard bristles along the enamel, the sting of fluoride on my tongue, I reach for the small cup by my waist as soon as I have scrubbed my mouth throughly. I swirl the water and try my hardest not to accidentally swallow and remember. Hands and tongue alike in unison, the soft groans and the feeling of warm air and flesh. I look at my teeth once more and feel as I see bits of residue, again I brush until my gums bleed, blood mixing with saliva._

_I feel the stinging ache even after I have entered my room, found my white and peach colored sundress lain out on the covers of my bed. Right below it, on the floor, lie small flats that I slip into comfortably after the dress has gone over my head. My curls are in a disarray and before I have the chance to reach for my hairbrush on the bedside table, the door opens and I turn to see Edward, now wearing a V-neck._

_He chuckles before coming over to sit next to me, leaning down to capture my ear into a heated bite, trapping one of his arms around the front of my shoulders. "Oh, Bella," he whispers, his breath tickling the lobe of my ear. "You are glowing this morning." One of my small hands reaches up to touch his forearm and I manoeuver my head so that my cheek touches his lips. _

_"Thank you, Daddy," the words sound hollow, practiced, as old as I am in this game. I feel his arm move up from my collarbone, until his hand softly closes around my neck. His fingers trace patterns onto my skin and he lifts his face from my own. He ruffles my hair and combs his other hand through the front of it, pushing me slowly until my back has touched the bed. _

_"What mess have you gotten your hair into today?" He plays, and reaches over my laying form to grab the handle of the brush and and run it through the tangled locks behind my head. Softly, holding my jaw, positioning it the way he wants so that he can work through the knots. Carefully, he takes his time, so that he does not pull roughly or drag my head to the side. As if he does not want to cause me pain, but he does not realize that is all that does._

_When my hair is lush with perfection, I hear the small bang of the wood on my bedside table, and his hand skimming just above my ear and on my scalp, softly bringing my head to his lips. His breathing and the heat of his smooth lips, make me look down at my dimpled knees, and I hear the sounds of smacking and flicking of spit by my eardrum. "Bella. What would I do without you?" _

_Find another girl, bring her home with you, and do the same that you do with me. Hold them, kiss them, break them open until they are bleeding and scabbed beyond recognition. Love them like you do me. Over and over again until I cry and beg for you to stop. But I don't. I can't. I hold no power over you, and the power ou hold over me is so much that I do not try to go against you. I am a hopeless child, and you are my captor that will never let me go._

_"You don't know how much I love you. Do you, sweetheart?"He speaks, my face feeling the murmur of his words, and pulls me closer until my cheek is so tightly pressed against his jaw, it hurts. "I love you so much, I want you to know that, okay?"_

_"Yes, Daddy." Automatic, the response comes before I realize what I am saying. I am programmed to agree with whatever he says or what he does, his own little dead girl, with no voice or opinion to be heard of her own. _

_"Tell me you do. Tell me how much you care. Please." He whispers, and his voice is rough but weak, almost breaking, like he cannot breathe in this instant. I do what I am told, and move my head so that I can look into his eyes, staring at me, full of emerald specks and pain. My hand touches his smooth jaw, the skin almost glossy in texture, beneath my fingertips._

_"I love you, Daddy." The words I have spoken so many times before, either before he falls asleep or in the heat of passion, during the cry of pain or the joy he wishes I could feel. I do not even know the concept of love, or if it really does exist. If it does, and if he really loves me, it is the wrong kind of the love. The kind of love that tear you open from the inside, burning what you are made of, the kind that makes death seem like a dream. _

_But even if I do not love him, he does not catch on. He believes me, always innocent, naive little Bella, in his eyes. Forever under his control, lost and screaming inside._

_After his strange moment of vulnerability, the day proceeds the same as it does any other day. He holds my hand, slows his steps as we glide down the staircase to match mine, and I look out the window, wishing it were me playing, twiddling the flowers between my fingers instead of the old women next door. I need other human interaction, but even as much as I long for it, I cannot accept any other than what Edward has to offer. I am accustomed to his touches, gentle, fatherly even, and the time when he need is almost unbearable. I cannot give anyone else what I give him. There's already no life left in me._

_He grips my hand firmly as I reach up to hold the counter, pushing so that I can leverage myself on the plush stool. He takes his arm away and crosses over to the stove, turning a wheel until I hear little spits of sizzle beneath the pan he hovers over, a small square of butter on metal, slowly melting around and around. _

_I rather hear than see him crack eggs into a seperate bowl, whisking with a fork, hitting the glass ever so lightly, the sound echoing in my ears. The butter is now a thin film of yellow, and the heat and smell travels to my nose. I watch as he concentrates while pouring the batter, the bubbles underneath come up and disappear down. I see the disks of opaque start to turn a golden crisp around the edges, and his eyes linger on my face._

_Pancakes. He only ever makes them when he wants to talk me into something, to make me feel like I have a choice in the say of things. I begin to feel nervous, but do not let myself show it. I watch as turn each uneven circle over, each face like the design on a butterflies wings. I begin to move and slide off of my stool, my hands on the cool surface, just inches away from the flame of the stove. _

_The fridge sits making sounds that tell me it is cold, and I shiver, bumps on my skin, when I open and reach for the figure of a women filled to the rim with sticky caramel colored syrup. The taste of sweetness coming into my mind, my tongue bitter and stiff, wondering what he needs to tell me. I set the bottle next to his elbow, and see his silver spatula transfer the pancakes onto a small plate with blue flowers on the ends. _

_I move back to take my spot behind the other side of the counter, flattening my dress against my bottom, before I finally sit down, the frilled ends tickling my ankles with feather touches. I stab at the pancakes with shaky hands, and look to see him standing, eating, looking at his plate. He doesn't know how to face me. I don't understand, I'm confused, and scared. There's something off, and for it to make him act this way, I know it is important._

_"Daddy?" I ask, and his eyes flicker to me, innocent and doe-eyed, hiding behind a mask, when really inside all that lies there is anxiousness. He takes his fork out of his mouth, his tongue reaching out to lick his lips, cinnamon tasting. Underneath his lashes, his eyes are pleading, he hunches over and swallows._

_"Bella, we need to move." _

_My mind starts traveling a million miles an hours, thoughts swirling and spinning. It feels as if time has just stopped, and I can't move. "Why?" I never ask about his reasoning, never questions any of his decisions. I have just come alive and I want to know what is behind all of this. Why does he wants to leave everything I have known, become used to, the only thing I feel comfortable with. The only place that I can now remember as if I was born and raised inside these walls._

_"I can't tell you," he says and he turns his head away so I cannot see his facial expression. _

_"What do you mean you can't tell me? There's a reason behind this, isn't there?" I can't stop myself, I blurt out whatever I am feeling, thinking. I feel as if I haven't said anything as much and as clear in so long. My voice is raised, and my heart is beating again. I can feel it loud and urgent. Thump, thump, thump, the rhythm, like the sound of a drum in my ears. "Tell me."_

_"Because I said so. Why do I have to tell you?" He has never spoken so roughly with me, and I now notice the look of determination in his eyes. The fierce and heated look that tells me I should stop, that I should shut my mouth and leave everything alone. But I don't, I can't. I am already too far gone. _

_"Why? What is it because people are starting to find out the truth? That you come to me every night and touch me?" I am shaking, I am blubbering, the wet, salty, stinging tears going down my face. "That you live in fantasy land, thinking I am your daughter and that you are my father, when the truth is you took me away-"_

_His hand is strong and stern against my face, so fast I do not even see it coming. I cry out and reach to touch the side of my cheek that is burning, pink and swelling. He has never hit me, never striked me, never been more than gentle with me. I cannot believe what has happened. So many things changing, so fast, so soon. I wish I would have never disobeyed my mother, thought I was invincible and could do whatever I wanted and I wouldn't have to pay the consequences._

_"Bella-" I run from his touch, crying and wailing, all the way up the stairs and into my room. The door slams and I fall face first onto my pillow, the bed squeaking under me. I sob and clutch the strands of my hair pulling and hitting the side of my head. I cannot live this way anymore, I can't hold myself back. I can't be silent anymore. I scream, my throat sore and hurting. _

_I scream for my mother and father, I scream because of the pain I have endured, I scream for the years I've never said anything. But mostly, I scream for the life I lost that day, being hairminded and naive. I don't want to live anymore, I don't want to feel this way anymore. How could he? How could someone do the things he has done? Why does god let people get away from the fate they deserve? Why does he let me suffer? Keep breathing and living the way I do?_

_My eyes are puffy and pink, my cheeks blotchy, the left side of my face turning a faded purple. I cry until I do not have anymore in me, until I am so tired I drift into a realm of silence and clarity. The last thing I remember is the weight of his hand on my back, stroking and rubbing, calming me down. "I'm sorry," his voice soft, and fading._

_That day I slept the entire day. I only woke for a moment or two, when turning on my side, barely opening my eyes to see the sun bright, and outside my window. Covering my face with my blanket, I tried to hide from the world. I wasn't anywhere nearing facing anything or anyone. _

_I missed lunch and dinner, I could tell, when the next time I opened my eyes, the sun had set, and outside it was darker than the color of my hair. I wasn't sure if I cared or not, and I was relieved to hear the slight snores coming the room next to mine. He was sleeping, dreaming, as I laid and stared at the wall to my left. _

_It took me a while to come to being coherent, and by that time. I felt a dull pain start to become reoccurring below my stomach and just above my pelvis. I squirmed and pressed my hand tightly against the spot, not sure of why I was feeling this way. I pressed my legs together and tried to lay on my stomach to see if the pain would subside. When it didn't, I huffed and became aware that my bladder needed my immediate attention._

_But as I go to sit up, I notice a pool of red underneath my sheer fabric of my dress. I can't panic fast enough, before there is another cramp in the deep pit of my intestines._

_It feels as if someone has plunged a knife into my stomach and with every move I make, it slowly twists and pierces me into a another dimension of pain. I cannot seem to catch my breath, each time my lungs compress as I inhale, the raw, almost nauseating sear, paralyzes me. The strangeness of this bizarre feeling continues and I can feel my face scrunch up, my eyes full of burning tears, my teeth almost breaking the sensitive skin of my bottom lip._

_In this very instant, I am willing to do anything for it to stop, for this feeling to go away, I cannot take it anymore, I need him. "Daddy!"_

_He storms into my room as if there is a stranger strangling me, his hand a dishevelled mess and his eyes are alert and shaky. He sees me there crying and holding my mid-section, and he switches the light on, and as soon as he sees the pool of blood underneath me, he doesn't know what to do. He stands and comes over slowly, his hand reaching to pull up the bottom of my dress. _

_My white cotton underwear are stained, and I start to shake. What's happening to me? He obviously knows and he looks at me, his hands coming up to brush my tears away,"Are you in pain?" When I nod, he moves his hand to go into my hair and pulls my forehead to his lips. His voice is muffled with what he says next,"Everything's going to be okay, shh."_

_He tells me to wait while he goes next door, to ask the old lady and her daughter who is in college, for a pad. When he comes back and I see the anger in his face, I know the exact reason why we have to move._

_"They know, don't they?" I ask in a small voice and move past him into the bathroom, where the pancakes come back up, and bitterly look at me from the bottom of the toilet bowl._

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**A/N: I know this was off. Everything that happened was entirely different than what Bella would act like. That's what I was going for. There's only so much a person can take. Review if this was worth your time.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I appreciate the warm welcoming from the last chapter, and am proud to give you something more.**

**Disclaimer: I do own Twilight, or any copyright.**

**Ages: Bella: 14 - 15 Edward 25**

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_"Everytime that I sell myself to you, I feel a little bit cheaper than I need to._  
_I will tear the petals off of you, rose red I will make you tell the truth._  
_Was she asking for it? Was she asking nice?_  
_Everytime that I stare into the sun, angel dust and my dress just comes undone."_  
- Hole

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And so it begins again. Another city. Another home. Another story. Lying. Pretending. Going on with the same routine that seems to never gets old. We always have to run. Run from the truth. From who we really are. Farther and farther from escaping the tangled and entwined webs that keep me tied and stuck in the view of his eight eyes.

Now we live Chicago. Before we moved, I found out we had been in Seattle. I almost died right then and there. To be so close to my original home, my real home. When I still had my childhood and innocence. The place where I was last safe. The house we now own is beige, the inside big and open spaced. The front lawn welcoming, freshly cut, the grass vibrant green, with neon flowers still in bloom. Neighbors with honest eyes on either side of us.

But there is a boy, a son of a mother who works all day, dad who I've never seen. He lives to the right of us, and when I see his eyes, I know he is one of them. Still new, a rotten egg not yet cracked, who has unfulfilled desires, hopes and dreams. Dreams to find someone like me and hurt them. Make them feel the pain he has felt and make it worse. To watch the tears of clear salt slide down my face and my mouth shake as I say no again and again. To have the power to not listen and feel guilt, when I scream for him to stop.

To hold me down and rip my insides open, feel and see me bleed stains. Red and discolored, warmth of rape in the air. Smell and taste of it on your mouth and tongue. To leave me broken and bruised. Body taken and beaten. Used and worthless. When I think of that power, I want to throw my fists, hard and sudden, punch and smash his face until I have to stop. Until someone rips me from his lifeless body, savage with bits of blood smudged underneath my fingernails.

The story is I am Edward's older deceased daughter. I don't have to call him Daddy again. I don't think of Charlie much anymore now as I used to when I was under him, feeling him pound in and crawl until I am raw. But his name, bitter on my lips, gives him more pleasure when he thinks I have cum. The thought makes me sick, the look on his face makes me shake. The reality makes me want to die.

I have sworn to myself that I will never feel, even when he tries so hard to bring me to the edge, an orgasm without feeling disgusted with myself. Never will I lay with him, my head on his chest, listening the never ending rhythm of his heart without resentment. Never will I be his in the same sense that he thinks I am. Never will I be with him and not think of how to get away from him.

There has to be a way, but until then, here I am.

The breeze feels nice against my face, the blowing air makes my skin feel relieved from the overheated sun. The light wind sends the ruffles of my dress moving, Edward's hand edging onto the side of my waist, pulling me into his chest, my small hand coming under his neck, and to the backdoor.

There is safety in his touch, when I feel the strange creatures eyes on me, and hear his mother yell for him. I think his name is Jake, but it's short for something, I'm sure. I don't really know, I try to avoid having any interaction with him, when I am all alone in the backyard, laying out on the patio sunchair. I do not move, the sun warm and comforting on my skin, the wind making my hair fly all around me, the ends of it tickling my cheeks softly.

I close my eyes and lay, aware and ignorant to the stares I receive. Edward on my right, breathing calmly and openly, whispering things that do not matter, as if we are a normal family. And, Jake, on the other side, pretending that he's interested in more than peeping through the small white gates. I wonder why he is home when I know school has not ended and decide that his mother gave in. The other night I heard screaming.

"Did you finish for the month?" Edward asks, even though he already knows I took the last little white pill this morning. I nod, still with my eyes closed, and feel his hand come up on the top of leg. Rough and hot, firm, and I move to face him so that it slides off. Eyes open, conveying a look that makes him think that everything is fine. He knows I feel nervous and his eyes stray above my head, as if to look at the flowers, but I know he sees him.

He looks back to me, and takes my hand that is cupping my neck and under my head and holds my wrist, looking at the blue veins under my translucent skin. I know he is irritated, mad even, and acts it off like it doesn't bother him. "Edward?" He looks up, and I can see he is holding himself.

"That boy is starting to get on my nerves. The way he looks at you." The grip he has on my arm tightens, not enough to hurt me, but to let me know not to pull away. "When he thinks I'm not looking..he needs to know that you're mine. And his mother, she's oblivious to what kind of a son she has."

"What do you mean?" I ask, my voice low. He looks like he knows more than he's letting on, as if something has happened between the both of them that puts Jake on Edward's target. Only I know why all he does is speak, if he wanted to do more, he would have, but that would risking exposing who we are to the police. If he wasn't holding back, we would have already had to start all over again. There's no risking anything.

That's what I want, but I have to make sure if Edward got caught, there would be evidence, no chance of him getting free and coming back to get me. It's one of the reasons why I don't try to escape. He will do anything for something he wants and I do not doubt the determination in his eyes. Playing with fire, I am already, but my fingers don't hurt as I pass them through the flames.

He lets his hair fall into his eyes, hooded green and probing, under his eyelashes. "When are we going to the pharmacy?" I ask, and his hand moves to hold mine, rough and warm, devouring and overwhelming my fingers. When I look at it, I try not to shiver thinking of the place between my legs, outstretched and used. The size is almost the same.

He doesn't answer, instead stands and pulls my hand with his, from laying down into a sitting position. I think the night when my blood had stained my clothes, and ran through the sheets to the mattress, traumatized him. He had held me in his bed, shaking. I wasn't sure what to do, or even if I should have said something. With the neighbors, and bloodletting, that day had tired me both mentally and physically. Edward had never cried so much, or even more than a single tear.

Sobbing, clutching me to his chest as his head remained buried into my neck. He keep saying over and over that he was sorry, asking me if I was in pain, and that everything was going to be better. We would start all over again, no one would bother us, and we would be happy. As happy as people can be. I tried to believe him as his voice cracked and even whispered that I loved him.

It only urged him further to slip his hand under his shirt that he had pulled over my head, after I had brushed my teeth from the sharp and sickening taste of vomit, and feel my small nubbing breast. It felt cold and strange on my warm skin, and I remember shivering, while he looked at my lips, leaning down to press his against mine, smooth and supple.

It wasn't right. It was too intimate. After everything he had done to me, this kiss, so innocent, and so gentle, scared me. I wondered as his fingers cupped and prodded at my chest, and his arm snaked around my waist, that hand rubbing my bottom, back and forth, not rough but wanting to feel more. "Daddy?"

"Call me, Edward," he said, pulling away from my face, looking into my eyes so intensely, that I was scared of a single look. His hand crept down from my breast, agonizingly slow, and he moved toward my abdomen, his hand pressing down, feeling me, until his moved his palm to hold the part of me that had never been taken.

His hold was tight, and his started to rub me through my underwear, the fabric of the liner used to collect the blood that now made me a women that leaked, making a noise that mirrored my breathing. He pushed harder and harder, and in the pit of my stomach, I felt something building. Higher and higher. I didn't understand. It continued and soon I felt dizzy, the feeling felt like ecstasy.

I had never experienced this before, and when I gasped, final and degrading, he whispered,"Do you feel that, Bella? That's it, cum for me." His movements quicken, and my eyes rolls into the back of my head. This feeling flows in my blood and through my veins, like a drug. And when it's over, I feel dirty.

I am dirty. A dirty, bad girl. I shouldn't have liked it, shouldn't have wanted him to do it again when he pulled away. Shouldn't have looked at him the way I did, eyes glazed over, and my mouth slightly parted, gasping for air that I felt like I couldn't breathe. He smiles, and strokes my face with the same hand that has brought me places I had never imagined existed before.

I am still in shock when he starts to laugh softly, his chest rumbles slightly against my shoulder, and I blush, even in darkness, I am embarrassed. And I realize at the same time, I am humiliated. I can't believe I have let him have such control over something no one has ever done, or I have done to myself. That he has the pleasure of knowing he can do such a thing after everything he has put me through, that I have let my guard down long enough to let him mark me in such a way.

To believe it was only a year ago when I had my first orgasm. Now it never stops, even when I want it to. As I squeeze my legs tighter, it only pulls him closer When I push him away, it only urges him further. When I don't speak to him, he finds other way to make me open my mouth.

Edward doesn't put my seatbelt on for me anymore. Little things like that make me feel like I can do something without him. He still opens my door, though, and closes it back up. The volvo is sleek and smooth, silver exterior, and the inside cool and fresh smelling. When he closes the car, and puts the key into the ignition, he hands comes up on my thigh, and he leaves it there, burning.

The drive isn't that much far from our house, and when we get there, I stare at the people inside. It is strange what normal people go to a store for. I see a women, in her late thirties maybe, eyeing pregnancy tests, hopeful. That's a thing both Edward and I avoid. There's a guy who scans the isles for right kind of acne treatment, and when he sees me, his eyes flicker back to the box in his hand. I suddenly want him to know that looks don't matter. I don't care much for mine, Edward does for the both of us.

And then I see a little girl, with a lollipop in her mouth, eyes full with glee, that shine. She stares at me and smiles as she hides from her parents. She tells me not to tell with her eyes, a little secret between the both of us. I see myself in her, who I was before I was ripped from my shell, flesh dangling like an oyster.

I wave slightly, my hand hesitant, before Edward pulls me to the counter where there is a petite women in her late twenties, with eyeglasses. He hands her the perception, and she tells me she will be back in a moment. He doesn't have to explain anything, and she does no ask any question. They all think the same thing, hormones. Assume that I'm just a teenager who can't handle her mood swings. That I'm just like everyone else, when the truth is, I'm not. They do not know me under the surface, and what they would find is unlike anything they have seen or known.

The air conditioning makes goosebumps rise on my skin, and Edward notices, rubs his hand on my arm to create friction. "We'll be done soon," I nod, and eye the box with an erotic picture on the side, the roll of rubber inside. Edward doesn't like condoms. He says he wants to feel me, all of me, wet and slippery on his shaft, warm and pulling. Makes me want to scrub myself clean when he finishes.

It's disgusting if you really think about it. The way people just have sex and lay there covered with each others body fluids, not moving under the sheets. Don't they itch when they think about what they have just done? Ever feel ashamed that they get off on it, too? I don't understand it, but maybe that's just me. When he slips out of me, glistening, he just lays there, on top of me, sweating. No showering until morning, the smell burns my nose and makes my head hurt.

I don't notice when the women behind the desk comes back, the box with my month's full of pills, ready in hand and with the receipt to hand to Edward. He pays and tells her to have a good day, hand on my back, as if I need guiding to the car. The doors shuts when I am seated, and the bag lays on my lap, my fingers pulling absently on the white plastic until it separates.

He starts the car, engine making my body shake slightly, and he turns the steering wheel in a circular motion until we swerve out of the parking lot. The motion of the wheels on the road is calming, it distracts me when he reaches over and takes my hand in his and squeezes it slightly, eyes still looking through the windshield. "What do you feeling like doing tonight?"

I look up at him, to my side, and say,"I just want to sit home tonight. Do something simple." He doesn't argue, he never does. As long as he has me all to himself, he's fine with anything I decide, no matter what it is. I watch him get off the highway, avoiding traffic with steady shifting, his thumb rubbing my palm ever so slowly, that it is all I can focus on.

I rather feel we are home before I glance to look to my right, and see the woman next door, hunching and leaning down to attend to her garden. It seems to be her escape from her son who never listens, and to the partner she doesn't have. My heart pulls when I see her cover her eyes from the sun, so she can see our car. Her problem is that she is alone, and I feel smothered. I want to feel bad, but I remember I have no one but myself, and that's the only person I can rely on. It's the only way to survive when you're in the position I am.

Edward has his guard face on when he pulls into the driveway, parks, and pull the silver keys from the ignition. He knows how to act when we're in front of people, charming, concerned when it's needed, and fatherly towards me as if I was his child, but at the same time, distant. I'm always so confused, with his multiple personalities, even when we're alone.

I wish I could see into his thoughts, what it is that set something off inside him that makes him hurt me. He doesn't mean to hurt me, gentle, always, but there's something about him that scares me. The power of his slithing snake eyes and hands. Lethal, yet refrained. Controlled, but unpredictable. I'm not sure who he's playing and when.

I open my door before he shuts the engine off, not to be rude, but I don't feel comfortable under the scrutiny and the surveillance of someone's eyes on me. You hardly ever see anyone open a door for another person, and Edward, as odd as it may seem, is old-fashioned when it comes to everyday things. But he's an entirely different story when the lights are off, and the moonlight shines through the windows, curtains pushed to the sides.

He glances toward me as he steps out by himself, and my hand strings nervously on the bag holding the pills that shake into the cardboard box colored white. I wait for him on my side and begin to walk to up the porch. "Hello Edward, Bella." Her voice is friendly, but tired. I can think of many reasons why. I try to smile, but fail, looking away before I can take her stare any longer.

"Hey, Rachel. Fine day today, isn't it?" Edward has a nack for making small talk, which is odd considering how much truth he holds back, even from me. Secretive, but his smile can make anyone believe him.

"Sure is. Go anywhere special?" She asks, but her tone isn't nosy, she's just being a person. Living and breathing, no reason not to talk to anyone you don't really know, but see often. I feel bad for her, but she has it easy considering what I see. Sometimes I stare at people, like I'm staring at her now and wonder what there faces would look like if they knew. To see him hovering and pushing, in and out, over and over, for what seems like forever. Legs wrapped, immodest, held by hands that never loosen.

"No, not today. We went to go pick up some pills for Bella. She hasn't been sleeping so good lately. Nightmares, aches." Right on the spot, doesn't blink, straight face. He should become an actor, with how perfect and concerned he plays. His face, it makes me want to wipe the sad smile off of his face, I want to tip the bag over and onto the concrete porch, but I don't. Remain as still as I am when I try to pretend I am not real, not living, not existing. Nothing as I was before I was conceived.

"Oh," her eyes stray over to me, and suddenly, she puts her hand on my forearms and rubs it, as if to comfort me. It's strange. Feeling someone elses hands where only his have been before. This touch, so foreign and new. I want to pull away. Instead I will myself to stay where I am, arm dangling at my side, until she pulls her hand back, not noticing the look in my eyes that makes me want to cry.

"I'm sorry to hear that," and she does, sound sorry, as if she does care. I bite my lips secretly, and fight the undying urge to run into the house and lock myself into my room, where there is only myself. It's the only time where I'm alone, the sound of my breathing the only thing that keeps me going.

The day precedes afterwards, uneventful after dinner, a dish of pasta, with slices of tomato and breadcrumbs, cheese sticky and pulling when my fork dips and spears each noddle. We eat while sitting in the dark, after seven o'clock, on the couch, plates pushed away and onto the coffee table.

My legs lay on his lap, while the film plays, his hands tracing softly, just over my skin, ghostly brushing, like feathers. My eyes stay on the black and white scene, as a Welsh librarian has an affair with his employers wife to raise his position to a higher level, on while deceiving his wife. While he is over at the woman's house, they are interrupted while they are embracing, hands in each others hair, lips passionately kissing and molding, and the librarian is forced to leave, dropping cigarettes purposely causing me to smile.

I can tell Edward is distracted. He does not look at the television, but continues to let me have some time to enjoy myself, with no demands or needs of others to be dealt with. I appreciate an illusion, such as a film, to take my thoughts, and my mind away from me for a while.

When the film closes, with the names of the actors and actresses, placed next to their character for credit, I watch as if I am interested, anything to stall time. He doesn't let them go one, and turns off the television with the remote, standing, putting his face next to mine, hooking his arms under my knees, and placing the other one to hold me behind my back. I go with him, my legs hanging, slightly moving, unwillingly.

He lets me down, when we get to his room, on the bed, running his hands slowly on my arms, then moving further down to my legs, pulling my dress over my head effortlessly. He does not speak, only breathe, the sound of it, making my eyes flicker back to his. Looking down at me, his mouth parted, with desire. I move my head so that I am looking at the bedside table. I see that photo of a girl, small, just like, with short cropped hair, smiling warmly. I always do. I can't stop myself but to wonder about his sister.

His hand comes down on my face, gently, and he leans down and kisses me with a hunger I know all too well. He holds me in his strong arms, wound and locked around my back, stomach pressed against the sudden naked hardness of his flesh. I turned my head and pull away, feeling his mouth on my neck, skin red and clotting between his teeth.

Blushed pink and thick, he takes my hand and wraps it around him, stroking softly. He feels warm, groaning in my ear, head pressed and held against his lips. He shakes, eyes rolling into the back of his head, panting. "Bella, keep going." Urgent movements, warmth, and the feel of tough skin on my palm. When he is about to cum, his hand releases mine, and I feel his fingers engulf inside me. Too big and too fast, burning as he moves them, I cry, a baby wail. I'm not sure whether from pain or pleasure.

He doesn't stop, and when he removes my hand, he stretches me with something bigger, filling me whole. "Take it, Bella." Legs, and thighs in his hands. "Take it."

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**A/N: If you're wondering what film they are watching, it is called _Only Two Can Play_, and stars my personal favorite actor, Peter Sellers. He's also known for his Pink Panther films. If you enjoyed this chapter, or if it was worth your time, please leave a review. All is appreciated.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I hope you meet me down at the end of the page, and do not hate me when everything is said and done.**

**Disclaimer: I have never and will never own Twilight, although my envy is quite great.**

**Ages: Bella, 16; Edward, 25-26**

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There is no real me, only an entity, something illusionary, and though I can hide my cold gaze and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours, and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably compatible, I simply am not there. - American Psycho

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_Sometimes I don't think I can deny myself the love he gives me. The wrong kind of love. Obsessive and possessive, he controls my every move. But I can't seem to tear myself from him._

_The love he gives me is slow, but sudden, the creeping building of pain that knots into pleasure in my stomach. It wasn't like this before, I didn't want this like I do now, I even crave and long for his touch when he isn't near._

This can't be normal.

It isn't._ This doesn't make sense. _It can't_. And I think, he too, can sense the change that has occurred. I'm not sure how he feels about it, but when I lean into him, and pull his lips to mine with my teeth, his eyes hold wonder and disbelief. I like to surprise him, I find that when I do, my stomach tightens, and a smile tugs at the corner of my lips. I can't help but to drown in the europhia of the feeling of being wanted and adored. _

It's addicting and dangerous._ I sometimes try to picture the day when I get over my teenage lust and do not give into him like I do now. It would crush him, and I find he loves that I'm willing. He does not have to beg or plead like he had before, sometimes now I even edge the bottom of my foot up his leg underneath the table at dinner. I can't help myself. I love the feeling that I can make him do anything._

_When I feel the hard thickness that has driven him to such measures, I feel accomplished. I have made him feel such a way, given him excitement, and I want to own it. I want to feel it deep inside of me, where no one else has gone before, and bring me to places that which I had never knew. I want to feel his love over and over again, until I'm crying. When I can no longer take the pleasure and I'm begging him please, stop,_ I can't.

_But that has only happened once. He stopped in the middle of his powerful thrusting, lifted his mouth from the place it had been on my neck, gently suckling at my skin, and raised his eyes to mine. The look in them made me want to push my hips to meet his own, and let him dive right back into the depths of my flesh. But before I could, he pulled away, his erect penis glistening still with the nectar of my desire. Feeling the pop and exit of his warm member, I suddenly realized I was more alone than I had ever felt._

_He sat up, and turned away. Naked still, I pressed the sheet that had been draped over our once withering bodies, over my tender breasts and fought the urge I had to cry._

I'd frightened him._ Never had I told him that I didn't want him. But I did, oh had I. I wanted him in every way, but it had become too much. I tried to tell him why I had said such foolish words, and let them slip from my mouth, but he didn't turn to face me. Instead I watched as his hands clenched at his thighs, as he stood, and walked to the bathroom in silence._

_I was stupid. How could I? Looking back in retrospect, now I know why he had left me, cold and waiting, in the sheets, for him to come back and take me into his arms once again. To feel his warm and comforting frame devour mine, as our chests touched and pressed against each other, melding and conforming, naked, skin on skin. He'd realized that if he hadn't stopped, given in fully to his urges, he would be raping me._

The thought terrified me._ He had never technically raped me. I had never said no, I'd stayed silent even when I was still naive and ignorant. But it made him realize they had been times where I didn't want to be, and could not see myself wanting to be with him intimately the way I did now._

"_Bella?" I heard him calling me. Waking me from my slumber, softly, tracing the lining of my hip, slowly with his finger. The touch was soft, and stirred the flying feeling of feathers in my stomach. I shivered and buried my face further into the cotton pillow case while smelling the joining of us, from the previous night, and the last remnants of fabric softener. "Belle." I moaned, covering my face with the blanket, not wanting to be disturbed. What time was it? "Come on, love. You can't sleep all day." I opened my eyes tentatively, wondering how long I had been slept and how long he would keep this up. It didn't feel like much time had gone, but then why had he said all day? It surely hadn't been all day? I surely still felt exhausted._

_"You've already missed lunch, and I'm hungry. But I couldn't leave this bed, not when you were laying there, so warm and soft," as he said this, his fingertips moved from the curdled skin of my hip and toward the lean muscle of my stomach and below. His finger traced my belly button, and I could feel the goosebumps creeping from his touch, and then down over my pelvis, his hand nudging my heated thighs apart._

_I didn't have time to open my eyes before he took my earlobe into his mouth, his breath somewhat damp, and slowly eased his long finger inside of my subdued heat. I did not utter a sound as he continued to nudge, and prod, slicking his skin with a thin film of clear, liquid musk that was all my own. The feeling of him opening, and manipulating me however did push me to the edge where my hand reached down, and covered his, pushing and rubbing, forcing him deeper until the feeling sent flashes of color behind my eyes. "You feel that, Bella?"_

_I did, and the feeling rid me of all my senses and rational thoughts. I could only focus on Edward, whispering sweet nothings into my ears, his breathing coming close to being as ragged as mine. The moment was overwhelming and I could not escape the bizarre feeling of pain, and pleasure combined, both present in the long strokes and flicks of his wrist. Just when I got used to the sear of being opened further, it got worse, and the feeling, oh the feeling was unimaginable._

_I could feel that the end was near, and the muscles in my arm slackened, despite my rush to feel the numbing pleasure that left me breathless. "How close are you, baby?" I couldn't find my voice, my lips open and wet from the saliva that came from panting, shaking my head back against his chest, back and forth, I let him know that this was all I could take. I was too consumed by constant feel of him hitting the same spot over and over, to have the the ability to say anything at all._

_"Bella, come on, baby." Then there it was, the light, flashing and diving, I felt myself fall. When it was over, I pulled my hand slowly away, rubbing his forearm softly, feeling the small fly-away hair raised. He was so warm, and big, and covering me. I felt him raise himself to a sitting position, while still laying on his side, and rub his chin on my cheek, the rough stubble calming me down from my high. The things this man could do to me, he would never truly know._

_I smiled, with my eyes closed, and felt him chuckle against my skin, the soft murmur of , 'hmm', making me tingle._

_We then showered, washing away the sticky residue and smell of sex, with soft caresses here and there, with love bites following. The hot steam and water relaxed my muscles, and took away any soreness I had felt from between my legs and aching limbs. Edward was extremely gentle when handling those areas, always dragging the fluff of foam suds with his hands this way and that, all while his mouth pressed on my shoulder, his lips flat and tasting._

_He did not ask me to return the favor of this morning, my knees stalling from kneeling on the wet tile, but instead he pulled me up by my arms and pressed my slick body against his. Wet, and sliding, my hair came in my face, bothering and black looking. He moved it back with his long fingers, the skin on his hand traveling smoothly on the outline of my face, and I shivered, feeling a wetness other than water pool and reignite. His eyes caught mine, and the smirk he gave me sent my mouth to his, my tongue eager, my head flush with fever._

_Although I was older, and could dress myself properly than I could before, Edward still choose and decided what I was to wear and look like. I sat on our bed, with the back of the towel, where the ends of my hair landed, soaked through and cold on my back, waiting for him to walk out of the closest. My pruny toes poked at the plush carpet, and I played with the firm fuze, drawing circles. The peach color muddled as I found myself becoming dizzying with my own movements of my foot._

_I imagined the small ridges and end of the material as the moving coral reefs under the sea, and suddenly my eyes were bulging and wondering, childlike in their discovery. I was interrupted then when I heard my name being called, and Edward stood in the doorway, a piece of black lace dangling my his fingers. He came and kneeled in front of the bed where I sat, and came to slide my legs through the itchy material, waiting until I stood to bring them into place._

_His hands then took their freedom and roamed, coming down to trail along my thighs, the towel falling behind me when his hand took the one I had, holding the two ends in front of my breasts. I obeyed and my nipples hardened from the cool draft of the air on my wet skin, and waited, his mouth feeling heated on the sensitive peak. I arched into his touch, and felt my stomach push against the beginnings of his chest._

_'You're so beautiful, Bella," and he made me __feel as if I _was_. _

_I found out it was a little after two o'clock in the afternoon when I had awoken, and as we left the house for the figure skating rink, it was a quater to four. I sat in the plush leather seat of Edward's silver Volvo, with both of my hands holding one of his in my lap. His fingers brushed the ends of the soft skirt, that fell a little below the middle of my thighs, and he gave me his lopsided grin, and kissed the hollow of my ear, with no fear in his eyes that anyone was watching._

_We were on the highway, surrounded by cars, and that ultimately made us safe from any suspicious glances, as everyone else was looking ahead, frustrated and waiting for the car before them to start moving a few inches, to signal the clear up of traffic. Edward was in no hurry, and I could feel his carefree nature take a hold of him._

_His warm breath on my neck, made me start to giggle, the skin there, thin and ticklish. "Edward, stop," I whispered, smiling like a fool, feeling him start to take my skin between his teeth, and softly nibble on it. Glancing a head for moment, he found that there was no progress in the wait of escape from the bridge, and took his other hand off the steering wheel, and took his finger, dipping it behind my head, capturing my pony tail, twisting it around in a circle, before watching it bounce to the back of my neck, resting._

_My bangs fell in my eyes, as I looked down, blushing, knowing what he was thinking before he said it. "You look so adorable with your hair up."_

_"Really?" I asked, biting my bottom lip, but then smoothed my teeth back, after his finger nudged it down. He nodded, slow, and the look in his eyes made my chest tighten, my heart caving in._

_"You look like my girl," his voice, sounded like he had before. In another time period, when he was younger, and I was only a child. In this moment, he was boyish, instead of a man, and then a thought came into my mind that made me realize what this meant. This moment made us seem like a couple, a normal couple, and as if we were high school sweethearts._

_But we weren't, no matter how much I was loosening up. And the thought, _killed me_._

_When he pulled into park, in the lot, behind the figure skating rink, he removed his hand from mine, for only a moment, and took the keys from the engine and handed them to me to hold as he took the bag from the backseat. I sat and waited in the silence, as I felt his side door close, and watched as he came around, in the glass, to open my door, and take my hand._

_He wasn't worried here. He had driven us more than an hour away from our house, so to lure off anyone that we might know, and question why we were being so intimate around another. Here we did not have to act as if he was my uncle, and I was his niece. We were Edward and Bella, free from onlookers, and no question, together a couple._

_As we neared the entrance, Edward's hold on my hand tightened slightly, and he leaned back to push open the door for me, and then enter himself. It was colder here, than outside, and I shivered, bringing my body closer to his, feeling him automatically release his hand from my mine, to wrap his arm around my shoulders. He guided me to a nearby table and lowered me down to sit on the seat, and kneeled to take off my moccasin slippers, opening the carry on bag, to take out my white skates._

_His hand slowly trailed down my calf, smoothing the sheer nylon, and gently pushed my foot into the heel. He took his time, lacing me up, making sure I was not at all uncomfortable when I stood. I smiled at his care, and reached to smooth his hair away from his face. "Thank you." He responded with a soft kiss on my mouth, and I licked my lips, smiling, before he sat next to me, his muscular thigh next to mine._

_He repeated the actions of putting on his skate, as he did with mine, but finished much quicker, and smoothed the ends of his jeans over. He then took my hand, and guided me to stand, the guards on the ends of my skates, putting off my balance. It was difficult to walk the few feet on the carpet and to the ice. Right before we stepped down, Edward leaned down, his hand squeezing mine fiercely to steady the both of us, and took each of our guards down, and then disposed of them in his pocket._

_'Are you ready?" he asked, and I nodded, nervous, but comforted with his promise of not allowed me to fall. Then, we began._

_The feeling of the skating sliding easily on the ice, eased my worries, and as long as I heard on to Edward, I convinced myself that I would be fine and not embarrass myself in front of all the people on the ice. "You see love, it's not that hard." Edward told me, his thumb rubbing circles into my palm, and he smiled, watching as I couldn't contain my laughter. I felt so free and as if I could do anything on the ice, Edward even spun me around, in circles, falling into stride with me._

_He captured me around the waist, and my hands fell away from his and wrapped around his neck, and Edward leaned down slightly and just as he was about to touch my lips with his, Rachel's voice broke through the illusion of normalcy and catapulted me into reality. Edward turned his head, and then in the blink of an eye, extracted his arms from around me, and caught me by the wrist._

_He smiled, and I saw the devastation in his eyes, we were no longer in a place of freedom. We were trapped and once again living a lie. I could feel my smile slipping away, and I turned my head down, and watched the blurred image of my face in the glazed over ice. To say I felt like crying was an understatement. "Hello, Rachel, I didn't see you leave this morning." I heard it in his voice, his surprise and resentment. He didn't like his parade being rained on, and his forced look of friendliness was strained._

_"We left early, Jacob and I. We actually weren't planning on coming out so far, but we were visiting family, and I drove by and thought, 'why not'?" Her smile was innocent, and from what I could tell, she did not find our excess touching to be wrong in anyway. I felt more relaxed and tried to play the part of silent Bella, but then I remembered she wasn't alone._

_And as the thought registered within me, the pieces clicking together in my brain, I saw him slide easily to where we all stood on our blades, and look at his mother before turning his eyes on me. They were brown, but the look in them, made the insides of my stomach coil into a twisted knot. I could see his eyes take in my face, move to my ponytail, and gaze longingly at my long legs. I thought I saw him smirk, and look over at Edward for a split second before listening to his mother and Edward continue to converse._

_It felt like we were having a silent conversation between the two of us, and I felt my eyes slip down to look back at the frozen ice when our eyes met. I was afraid of his eyes, and that seemed to encourage him to not break his strong stare. "We would love to join you," Rachel replied to whatever Edward was saying and I felt the black ooze of uneasiness creep inside of me, and fall into the center of my stomach._

_It felt like lead. I was being weighed down and every time I tried to smile, I could feel my jaw shake slightly. I was afraid to speak, for the fear of hearing my voice, hollow and thick from being so upset. I followed Edward, feeling his hand crush mine, my fingers numb and red, from his grip. He was angry, and so was I. I tried to communicate with what was left of strength in my own hand._

_With them behind us, I glanced at Edward and saw him looking down at me. His eyes told me not to worry, it would be over soon. Whatever Rachel and Jacob had in mind, we wouldn't be staying longer than nesscary. I was hung up on the thought that I almost didn't stop from walking on the carpet, with my blades still exposed. I leaned against the wall, and felt Edward placing the guard back on my skate and to his, before we walked to where our table was._

_He could read the rush of jumpiness in my step, and my lip trembled. I touched it with my fingers, and willed it to stop moving. I didn't know how to act, what to say, and this was becoming bothersome. I was shaking slightly, I could not find it in my mind to try to even change the expression that read in my eyes. I was afraid, I felt exposed, and the only help Edward could offer, was a soft touch at the bottom arc of my foot without looking too attentive._

_I had to calm down, but it was hard feeling Jacob's stare on my neck. The slight pink raised bump, catching his attention, and trying to appear absentminded, I twirled my ponytail over the spot. Edward's eyes flickered to my movement, and his eyes hardened a bit, the dark green, making me too hypnotized to look away from his stare. I knew he wasn't angry with me, but that the anger was suppose to make me feel better._

_It was his way of saying, 'you're mine, not his', meaning I didn't have to worry about Jacob staring at me. He would never get to me, as long as Edward was there with me, always._

_But it did not change the way I felt inside. I felt like a little girl all over again, scared and unsure, cautious as so I didn't upset anyone around me. In this moment, I could only think that I acting the way I had when Edward had first taken me. I had handled the situation just the same. But what made it worse this time around was that, even with Edward reassuring me, the thought of Jacob wanting me, made me so terrified, I could not even form words._

_I could not find myself paying attention to the conversation that Edward easily held with Rachel, and then found myself confused when they both stood. I was about to slide myself out of the booth, when Edward caught my hand, and stilled my actions. "We're just gonna get something to eat." I found myself nodding, still mute, and watched as Edward turned to glare at Jacob, before leading the way to the food with Rachel._

_My hands were shaking, and to appear collected, I pressed them underneath my skirt, and sat on them. "He's lucky." I then made the mistake of glancing up, and finding his eyes, holding mine._

_"What do you m-mean?" I had to ask him, and my voice wavered. I had always known that he somehow knew everything about what was going on between Edward and I. He was one of them, and could see when another of his kind, was targeting another. He chuckled, and his grin showed his teeth, white and menacing._

_"You know, I hear you two at night. Especially you-"_

_"How is that-?"_

_"Possible? I'm an intuitive person. I just gotta open my window a crack, really. My moms deaf when she sleeps, so if you thought no one knew, you're wrong." I found myself staring down at the freshly wiped down table that separated up for only a couple of feet. I could not process anything he had told me, but inside, I had known. They're was always a chance someone could have guessed, and for Jacob to have listened on, made bumps on my skin rise._

_"You know, sometimes, when I listen in, I touch myself. I can't help not too. If you weren't with him, I'd have ya. Even if you didn't want me, if I ever had to force you, I wouldn't care."_

_I could feel my vision blur, and soon, a tear slipped from my eye and down my face. I took a hand I had placed under me, and wiped my face roughly. I turned, and stared at Edward's back, and said, "Why are you telling me this?"_

_"I don't care if ya tell him, he wouldn't be able to do anything anyway. If I have to tell I will, but I won't, if I get something I want." His voice was so steady, and so sure, that I was positive that he had thought this through, and had taken the time to do so. He had me right where he wanted me, and the thought of him forcing me to do anything to keep his mouth shut, disgusted me. But I knew, I would do anything for Edward. And that meant, anything for Jacob, no matter how much it hurt me._

_He didn't continue, we sat there in silence, the air thick and tense, but he was relaxed. He knew I wouldn't say no, if it meant that Edward might be exposed to anyone for what he really was._

_When Edward and Rachel came back, with fries in hand, I felt myself scoot to the edge of the booth, pressing my side, harshly against the black wall. I didn't want Edward to see my face, he couldn't. I wouldn't let him risk his wellbeing, so that he could go and hurt Jacob. I knew he would, if he knew the truth. And that was not something I would risk. If Edward was ever caught, Jacob would get me. And have me, as Edward did._

_By giving myself to Jacob, once, would be better than being stuck with him._

_I numbly ate the fried food, feeling the grease on my fingertips, and stared down at the pleated pattern of my skirt, wanting to lost myself in the twists and turn of where each square ended and met. I almost didn't hear Edward he told me we were going to leave. I dropped the last, half eaten fry that had been in my hand, cold and hard, into the small basket and took his hand._

_"It was so nice to spend the afternoon together," Rachel said, and I hated her. Hated her for being responsible for breeding such a creature, and releasing him into the world._

_"Yes it was," Edward said, and pushed open the door, for us ladies, and captured my hand once again when we were nearing the Volvo. We waited in the car, until they speed out of the lot first, and then Edward waited one more moment before he followed their lead back home._

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**A/N: I might not update for a while, there's alot going on with school and everything. Yeah, I know, I'm cruel. Please leave a message if you thought this was worth your time. **


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